Lost in Translation
by Sifl-senpai
Summary: Shizuo fails miserably whenever he tries to ask a stranger if he can see their notebook. The chaos that ensues is as unpredictable as the weather! Latest chapter: Shizuo goes on a date... with Anri?
1. Ever the Thinking Man

Chapter One- Ever The Thinking Man

Sunny days were the best- the birds were singing (but not too loudly), the stores were full (but not too crowded), the children were laughing (but not too obnoxiously), the old men were smiling (but not too lustfully, which was okay), the old women were knitting (but not too rapidly), and the water was flowing in a nice, even rhythm that was not so much suggestive of urination as it was of a calming, running brook.

Today, Shizuo felt like that brook, except he wasn't running. He was sitting perfectly still, relaxed and content, like he wasn't capable of being the fortissimo of Ikebukuro. In fact, had anyone been watching, they wouldn't have believed he were even capable of pianissimo, which was precisely why they weren't watching- Shizuo was so tranquil that he had_ become_ part of the serene setting, unnoticed by even the birds in the little park.

Maybe there was something to this 'Dollars' thing, after all.

Anyway, today was the perfect day for people-watching, and Shizuo was an undiscovered master at it. Watching others made him feel like he were a part of whatever fun they were having, and, in some strange way, when they were happy, he was happy. So, in this vicarious nature he sang at just the right volume with the birds, browsed with the fashionistas, smiled and restrained himself with the old men, neatly made loving keepsakes with the old women, and was chilled like the brook, as we have already discussed.

The scene was almost perfect.

The only thing he couldn't synchronize with was the person sitting across the park from him. She had been fine earlier- ten minutes ago, she had been sketching or writing or whatever she'd been doing in an orderly and mellow fashion, but suddenly she had jumped in her seat and vigorously erased whatever had been on her tablet, and then scratched around on the paper with such haste and persistence that Shizuo could swear that he could hear her pencil lead strokes in his ears. It got worse when she began to tilt her medium to the left and right. It made Shizuo curious- it wasn't like what the elderly women were knitting, which was in plain sight, or what the birds were composing, which was simple and predictable- this was hidden and mysterious, and Shizuo was curious. He subconsciously began to twitch his head in tandem with the girl's paper pad. After a while, it made his neck sore and his curiosity began to turn into annoyance.

His invisible status had downgraded into that of a mere statue, and a few pigeons landed on him.

Normally, our sophisticated and mature Shizuo would have been terminally distracted from the creative chaos across the way in favor of being contented that some like-minded individuals deemed it safe to land on him (or even peck around a fifty foot radius of his bench for crumbs), but his innocent rapture was ruined when one of the birds announced their landing with a restroom break- apparently, the brook wasn't as soothing to everyone as it was to Shizuo.

He jumped at the wetness and saddened as the startled pigeons left, but his attitude changed drastically when he touched his head and brought his moistened finger to his nose to decide what it was.

It was, to his dismay, most definitely not ice cream.

But did his anger ruin this day? No! Not even violence personified could hinder the perfect sunshine and hinted breeze. The day itself was fine- just not from the point of view of these particular Ikebukurians. After all, everything is relative, right? Well, such discussions are of little consequence- let us return to the focus of this tale.

Shizuo, to his credit, hadn't truly lost his cool until he'd overturned the bench when he'd overreacted at his feathered friend's gift. Of course, after the upset bench garnered the negative attention of the park, Shizuo forgot all about his wonderful mood and threw it out with the nearest trash can and made the whole ordeal looked like one continuous rampage. The can crumpled into garbage (he had indeed perfected the art of littering) and Shizuo must have internalized the idea of destroying the environment because he proceeded to uproot and pile on the closest tree before moving on to another bench. Onto the pile it went, along its bretheren and the other trashcans and a water fountain and port-a-potty. Finally, there was only one throwable object left, and it was a bench- the bench that belonged to that girl with the scratchy pencil and perplexing paper. He'd get his hands on that paper and see what the cause of all his rage was, and then-! And then-!

Well, he didn't get that far into what would happen afterwards, and it really didn't matter that he hadn't, because the bench was empty. Perhaps he couldn't register her presence due to all the dirt he'd stirred up in his rage. He waited a few more minutes for the dust to settle, just to be sure.

Indeed, she was gone. Shizuo's blood pressure dropped to its normal level in tandem with the airborne soil as he stood in bewilderment in front of the vacant bench.

He had made quick work of that park- there was no way she could have gotten over her shock and run away in the time it took for him to throw such a tiny tantrum. For goodness' sake, the cashier at the boutique across the street still hadn't regained her thought process long enough to finish applying her lipstick- and she was conditioned to witness scenes like this every other Thursday!

And then, like with most things, Shizuo put the whole ordeal out of his mind when he saw Tom approach.

!

END CHAPTER. THAT IS MY LINE BREAKER THING.

Hi, guys! This is going to start off as the maddening mishaps of Shizuo Heiwajima and probably spiral out of control into something else just as wacky- now that you've given this chapter a try, I'll tell you that there will be an oc gal, but no matter what happens and no matter what other sap and crap and emotional turmoil gets thrown in the mix, I'm gonna try to keep this entertaining and zany... (and if my writing style hasn't clued you in yet, being completely "un-zany" is "un-possible".) This is Durarara!, after all! There's gotta be a bit of everything!

Don't forget to read and review... and submit suggestions!

...Hmm. I'm feeling some Shizuo with a strong side of something _Northern European _next time...


	2. From Russia Sushi, With Love

Part Two- From Russia Sushi, With Love

Today was the third day in a row that the weather had been pleasant. Unfortunately, Shizuo's work day hadn't followed suit, so his attitude was in perfect contradiction to the weather. He skulked around like a thundercloud, striking out at whatever tall metal object caught his fancy.

In fact, the sudden absence of the CAUTION, YIELD, and STOP signs probably contributed to the persistence of Simon's inevitable greeting. In what way, we can't be sure- the lack of warning may have made him assume that he had the green light to interact with Shizuo, but then again, the crumpled remnants of traffic advisements may have also put our Russian chef on damage control. Either way, Simon felt compelled to dive into the center of the storm.

"Shi_zu_o!"

The blonde rumbled deep inside and kept going as the wind took him. That would have been it for their interaction had Simon not decided to suddenly change his career from sushi chef to storm chaser.

"Shi_zu_o! We have new sushi today, made with dairy! Good! It good for you! You like?"

Two strikes, and Shizuo was getting all wound up for the third one. If Simon didn't stop, he'd have a hurricane pitched at him rather than simply some divine wrath. Shizuo began to fervently wish that his imposing friend would turn back around and head somewhere else, like back to Russia. Simon, of course, just kept on following.

"Moo moo milk for little Shi_zu_o!"

Shizuo predictably struck out, but did Simon? Well, it depends on how you look at it. If the big man's aim was to make the storm blow over, he was not taking any bases. However, if Simon intended to release Shizuo's thunderous wrath, he had done that and more- the winds bellowed from his core and his body language changed from threatening to deadly quicker than lighting. If that was what Simon had wanted, he'd gotten a home run for Team Russia Sushi.

Unfortunately, Shizuo opted out of this lightning round of baseball in favor of a more contact-oriented sport. He tackled Simon with the gusto of a football player and then changed his game to mimic the brutality of a hockey veteran. The dear boy was too earnest to be called out for cheating, but Simon felt Shizuo needed to make up his mind about what game he wanted to play. Neither the burly black man nor the audience that was gathering would be able to keep track of the rules if he didn't.

Simon got him in a bear hug and began to gently chide his friend in that tone of voice that only a self-made caricature like himself could use without being sent straight to the insanity ward.

"Oh, violence is no good, Shi_zu_o! Violence is bad. Bad, like not having dairy. Like not eating Russia dairy sushi."

Shizuo bent himself backwards and lifted Simon off the ground using the trunk of his body, effectively using Simon's embrace against him. As the big man's head collided with the asphalt, the shorter Shizuo took advantage of Simon's weakened grip and slipped away by finishing his backflip.

Couldn't Simon figure out that he was upset? What in the world made him think it was okay to try to communicate with Shizuo in this state? Really, Shizuo had thought that his body language alone communicated his feelings- and the growls and roars that came after should have sent an even more obvious 'stay away' signal. How could he have made himself any clearer? Gahhhh, it didn't matter anymore. He needed something to _throw_.

We may never know why Shizuo believes that the only appropriate response to offensive stimuli is to chuck something heavy at the source, but the fact remains that he satisfied the need by uprooting a slab of concrete from the sidewalk (apparently, Shizuo's fingernails are capable of superhuman feats, too) and sending it towards Simon's recovering form like it were a discus.

Simon saw it coming. He blocked it with his forearms and it cracked in half on impact, neatly sliding down the husky Rusky's thick arms and to the ground.

Much to the relief of everyone involved, the Olympiad from the east decided that was enough games for one day. He turned and faced his audience.

The crowd paused as noticed them, and the eyes of the hurricane passed over them in silence. They stared back, completely terrified by the sparks flying in their depths. Shizuo looked away and reached for his sunglasses. He didn't want these nice, normal people to be able to look straight into his eyes and see the shame in them. Then, pretending like nothing had happened (which, relative to the usual outbursts of the Strongest in Ikebukuro, was_ exactly_ what had happened), Shizuo walked over and reached out a hand to Simon, who caught it and the look in his young friend's eyes. The sushi chef sent back a sympathetic grin in return.

When he would replay the day's events in his head later that night, Shizuo would be grateful that Simon took advantage of his momentary calm to coax him into the Sushi shop.

"You must eat sushi, it is special made! Strong man needs a reward for having mercy on poor Simon!" He slapped a hand on Shizuo's back and led him in the door.

Shizuo let himself be guided into a seat at the bar and silently took the glass that was handed to him.

"The special for my friend!" called Simon. He started for the back of the shop, but turned around for a moment. "It was nice day today, huh?" he asked. Shizuo nodded quietly, which Simon took as permission to go back to work.

After a little while, Shizuo felt comfortable enough to observe the other people around him.

There was a rowdy group in one of the private booths closest to him, and they all sounded very happy in their noisy party. They weren't loud enough to accurately eavesdrop on, though, so they were unobtrusive and Shizuo actually found their presence relaxing- he close enough to feed off their fun, but separate enough to avoid getting too involved with them. He felt a small twinge of jealousy that he wasn't in a group of friends like that.

The couple down at the far end of the bar didn't have a curtain to isolate them from Shizuo, but the quiet way that they lost themselves in each other made the physical barrier unnecessary. He found their interaction pleasant as well. And as with the first group, he was a little envious.

He then cast his eyes downwards so that he wouldn't be caught people-watching and noticed that someone had left a few belongings on one of the stools. A little pouch and a pad of paper sat innocently in the seat. Remembering the incident in the park the other day, Shizuo wondered if the owner had accidentally left them behind and tried to decide if he should take them with him to return to the girl (at least, he thought it had been a girl. He hadn't really been paying as much attention to the person as he had been to the paper) the next time he went to the park.

It wasn't like he'd be on a wild goose chase- he knew that the owner, regardless of their gender, had been going to the park about five times a week for about two weeks. The ex-bartender may have had no social graces, but he was observant and took note of any recurring occurrences in that park- he went there nearly every day. Suddenly, a small burst of pride bloomed in his chest as Shizuo realized that the disaster he had engineered the other day was only the first one he'd had in that park in the whole two weeks the paper pad owner had appeared.

Relative to our hero's normal track record, that explosion had been a great accomplishment.

Now that the tablet was innocently lying still and not being tilted to and fro by its holder, Shizuo was even more intrigued as to what was inside. A sneak peek would be a worthy reward for his biweekly restraint, right?

He knew that it wasn't his place to look into another person's personal belongings, but he justified his desire to himself by convincing himself that he needed to learn the owner's name for when he returned it. And if they didn't reappear at the park, he would need their address to track them down.

His hand inched towards the pad. What was in it? Was it some kind of experimental poetry book? Or was it filled with sketches like the one that the artist Celty and he had tracked down? Shizuo had liked his sketches. Wait- what if it was a diary or a journal? He didn't want to pry into this person's private thoughts. He hesitated a moment more before deciding that regardless of what the book was, he did need at least a name to return it.

His hand inched closer, closer, closer, and then away, then closer, then closer, then away again, then away some more, then much closer, closer, and then too close for comfort, so he backed it away some more, and then sent it closer yet again. But then he got all nervous and backed it away just as much, and then tried to keep his hands occupied by sitting on them. Finally, he reached out his hand with determination as he reminded himself that playing chicken with a spiral-bound notebook wasn't going to get him or it anywhere. He predictably chickened out and started the whole process over again.

After about a thousand second guesses, he put his hand on the cover.

"Shi_zu_o!" Simon placed a plate of rice, seaweed wrapper, and an unknown substance in front of the blonde. "Yogurt and banana split sushi, for you!" Shizuo's hand slipped away from the pad of paper and he studied his food for a moment. "You want more milk?" Simon asked. Shizuo noticed the cup in his hands for the first time. The glass was still full, so he shook his head and considered his food. In reply, Simon patted his head (Shizuo didn't really care) and went to wait on the group behind the curtain.

Shizuo placed the cherry from the top of his (banana split?) sushi into his mouth and had a sip of milk. It was good.

Oh, wait, what about that notebook? He glanced two stools over and discovered that the book was gone.

He looked around the shop to see who could have taken it when he heard the bell on the door to the sushi place ring. He turned just in time to see the pad of paper slip through the door in a stranger's vice grip.

Darn. He absentmindedly plucked the ice cream from the top of his sushi and popped it into his mouth. Simon was strange, but Shizuo felt extremely grateful that he had a friend who would give him strawberry ice cream even after he'd had a slab of concrete hurled at him.

As he sat eating the sugary sushi, he decided that perhaps his day wasn't as bad as he'd thought.

* * *

><p>I forgot my disclaimer last time, so this one doubles as the one for the last chapter, too. I do not own Durarara! I do really like it, though.<p>

Anyway, does anybody else loooooooooove Simon? I know I do. I think he's the best guardian figure in the whole series, even though he isn't really ever the figurehead. Anyway, I hope to involve as many characters as I can in this, 'cause they are all too fun to not mess with- you guys can suggest who you want to see- besides Izaya. I need him for key points, not just for fun.

I hope you enjoyed this 'un- don't forget to read n' review!


	3. Don't Fear the Reaper

**_WARNING: _**_Shizuo curses occasionally. I don't think this is an issue, but just in case. Also, Shooter is the name of Celty's bike/horse- no lie._

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><p><em>Part Three- Don't Fear the Reaper<em>

The sun wasn't going to set for another few hours, but Tom had decided that the "impending rain" would drag them down when they visited clients. "After all," he said to Shizuo, "Doesn't it suck to have to chase idiots down in a downpour? I feel and smell like a wet dog afterwards, and I hate that. So does my girlfriend." Shizuo obediently agreed with his boss and the two parted ways.

Rather than a wave of sour storm clouds, the only thing Shizuo saw floating across the sky was powdered sugar. He knew that there was little to no chance of rain and that Tom had invented that excuse to get off work early and see his girlfriend. Not that he had to make an excuse- Tom so frequently cut his kohai slack that Shizuo wasn't reluctant to give it back.

In other words, anyone would be glad to have a boss as kind and understanding as Tom Tanaka, so Shizuo would never dare challenge his decision to skip out.

Normal people usually have something in mind that they want to do when they acquire some free time, but Heiwajima Shizuo was, among other things, not normal. Sure, he liked to take walks and he liked to watch wrestling, but one can only repeat the same activities so many times before longing for a little variety. He was at a loss with what to do with himself today.

With a flick of his lighter, he ignited a cigarette and began to aimlessly meander around the streets of Ikebukuro- it was a walking free day, apparently- until he settled down in his usual park in his usual spot (on the side of the fountain that got the most shade) and exchanged his burned cigarette for a new one, fiddling around for the old smokes' disposal bag in his front pocket.

His particular attention towards this current trash's destination contrasted sharply with his disregard for the park's orderliness during his last visit. But that's neither here nor there.

Shizuo looked up at the sky again. That cloud looked like a hippopotamus, and that one looked like a… tooth? Weird. He took a drag of his cigarette. The tooth moved softly in the wind. Absentmindedly, he messed with his cigarette a little more before he shifted his attention to the people in the park around him.

There were the old men, their wives, the giggling girls and boys, the group of women in the store, and the happy little birds. Even the tree he'd uprooted had been replaced by a new little sprout. He could feel the fountain supporting him from below, so he knew that it was there, too.

In fact, _nothing_ was missing from his previous episode with this little slice of tranquility, for, lo and behold, that stupid notebook was right across from him yet again, turning to and fro as if it were mocking Shizuo for not exposing its contents when he had the chance. How infuriating!

No. He refused to let this new episode in his park life be a rerun of the last one- he couldn't afford to destroy the same park _again_ so soon. Besides, today had been too good to end on such a bad note. He took a drag of his cigarette and looked up at the clouds again. That terrible tablet of paper couldn't make a spectacle out of him if he pretended it wasn't there. In his head, he convinced himself that the day would only get better. If he believed hard enough, it could happen, right?

And it got better-an eerie whinny lit up his ears and Shizuo was delighted to see Celty appear soon after it faded. He held up a hand in greeting.

She returned the gesture and proceeded to use her other hand to retrieve her PDA.

[How are you?]

Shizuo took a moment to read the message and took his cigarette out of his mouth. "What's with the concerned tone? You make it sound like you're worried about me or somethin'."

[It wasn't meant that way.] He seemed to be stable, so she joked with him a little. [Would something like, "How's the weather?" have been better?] Truthfully, Celty had indeed been worried that he'd been angry. Shizuo's temperament and the weather were uncannily similar, so Celty kept the weather question's secretive double meaning in mind for later- she would inevitably need to test him again.

"Well, the weather's nice. Particularly the clouds." He tapped some ashes on the ground and scooted over to invite his headless friend to sit down. She obliged him and turned her helmet skyward. "See, there was this tooth- there." He pointed it out to her. "But now it kind of looks like some weird octopus- thing."

Her PDA surfaced into his vision. [Or a Gorgon.]

Behind his sunglasses, Shizuo visualized the serpentine locks of Medusa, but they suddenly transformed into Tom and his dreadlocks. He coupled it with the octopus comment and suddenly the boss-man had traded in his signature 'do for an eight-legged cap. Shizuo laughed.

"I just got a mental image of my boss with an octopus for hair."

Celty, who had only seen Tom in passing glances, couldn't recall who that was. She cocked her head to the side.

"He's the dude with dreadlocks and glasses."

Celty thought for a moment longer, but she did eventually place him- the guy in the tacky striped collared shirt and suit. Her smoky imagination added wild-colored rings to Shizuo's hair-octopus, but she didn't really find the humor until the sea critter let loose a squirt of ink onto Tom's face from above. Daintily, she brought a hand to the mouthpiece of her helmet as her make-believe man stood dripping black in her thoughts.

Shizuo was right on track with her, and they both snickered when the spineless thing quavered from imaginary-Tom's upward glare and tried to clean his glasses by using its tentacles as window-wipers.

Infuriated, Tom tried to push it off his head, but it held fast to his face with its arms. When he finally peeled it off (A fiasco within itself- Shizuo pictured Tom using a crowbar before ending up on his butt, trying to shove it off himself with his feet and hands; Celty just imagined that he snapped his fingers and made Shizuo take it off for him), little sucker-marks were left all over his face and newly-bare scalp.

Incidentally, they both finished their little mental movies by deciding that the octopus's name was Jerry.

Who says you need words to communicate?

They grinned and looked at clouds for a substantial amount of time. In fact, Celty would have continued this routine for the rest of the day had she not noticed that her tall friend's gaze was being periodically pulled away from the sky and across the park.

[I notice that you keep glancing away. Do you need to go meet your boss, or something?] She swiftly added another phrase. [I didn't mean to keep you.]

Shizuo paused for a minute before shifting his cigarette to his other hand and waving off her apology. "Nah, that's not what it is. I keep looking at, well," he fiddled with the smoking tube in his hands, "it's going to sound really stupid and nosy. It's not really something I want to talk about." At least, that's what his mouth said. The sidelong look he cast at Celty, however, shouted, "I really wanna tell you!", and they both knew it.

He started talking before she even showed him her curiosity typed out on her PDA. His enthusiasm was rather charming- if Celty had a mouth to smile at him with, she would have.

"Okay, so I keep seeing this sketchpad or a notebook or something popping up everywhere. Like, at Simon's place, it was lying there on a stool. And in this park, I- well, I wrecked the park over it, but anyway- it's been showing up at this park even more than me. Isn't that odd?"

Shizuo, being Shizuo, had neglected to mention that the "sketchpad or notebook or something" had been the same one each time and how his aggravation with it sprung from his curiosity over its contents. Celty may be in sync with her bleach-blonde buddy's imagination, but as soon as words got thrown into the mix, she frequently found herself lost. Usually, she could overcome this- she'd wait for Shizuo to empty his head of all of his thoughts and puzzle out what he'd meant once he'd put all his pieces on the table, but this direct question after such disjointed information left little room for anything but blind speculation.

[Maybe a lot of people in this town like to write or draw? Is that a bad thing for them to do?]

In the span of one blank stare, Shizuo realized how badly he'd botched what he was trying to say.

"I'm a moron. Sorry." Luckily, he wasn't annoyed (at least, not dangerously so) or deterred by his failure, so he tried again. "There is some person who keeps coming here to write or draw or whatever. I keep seeing them in the park. It's not such a big deal except that they get so into whatever they are doing that _I _want to know what they are doing." Celty watched him take another drag of his cigarette before he continued.

"And then the other day I saw the notebook-thing sitting on a stool at Russia Sushi, so I reached out to open it and see who it belonged to. Well, okay, I was also going to take a peek at what was inside." He shrugged his shoulders and ducked his head a fraction. "But I seriously did intend to return it. But anyways," he ground out his cigarette, adjusted his sunglasses, sat up straighter, and began to vigorously gesture, "I got distracted at the last second and looked away, and suddenly, it was gone!"

Shizuo was on his feet now. "But even before that, I saw the person in this park, just _goin'_ at it-" he began to mime that he had an invisible pad of paper in one arm and started to drag his dead smoke across the air as if it were a pencil and the world his notebook, "-and turning the stupid thing this way-" his body and cigarette-pencil were drawn off the "paper" and onto the park to his right, "-and that way-" to his left, "-and then I got all distracted by some birds-" and then finally he forgot all about the imaginary paper and his real cigarette when he flung them both to the wind and flung his hands around to accentuate what he was saying, "—and then one of them _shat_ on me and I lost it!"

To anyone but Celty, though, it just looked like Shizuo was letting his hands go willy-nilly. But point of view is, as we have discussed, relative.

Shizuo suddenly whipped around and bent himself over to get face-to-helmet with the Celty. His eyes were wide, and Celty couldn't tell if he was angry or just excited. "The notebook disappeared then, too! I can't get ahold of it, but I can't escape it, either, see? It's even here right now!" He pivoted and thrust a finger at the park bench parallel to the one the headless rider was sitting on.

It would have been a perfect replay of Professor Layton (or so Celty thought) had there actually been a person and notebook where he'd harpooned his finger.

Instead, they both just froze there, staring at an empty bench. Celty's cool gaze was unperturbed, but Shizuo seemed a little too frozen.

The headless rider went on damage control. [I'm sure they'll be back again, Shizuo. Next time, you could-] He hadn't even turned around to be placated before he took off running.

"NO, DAMMIT! I AM _NOT _HALLUCINATING!"

Celty knew she had to stop him- she called Shooter to her side and mounted as soon as he leapt over the trees and bushes and grounded himself. With a haunting whinny, they took off after the world's most inappropriately named person.

Now, Shizuo was fast, but Shooter was, in Celty's mind, the greatest horse alive (or otherwise), so they pulled up next to him in no time. She frantically tried to get Shizuo's attention-

[Wait! Shizuo, you've got to stop!]

[What will you do when you find whoever owns the book? You can't hurt them- you'll never get to see it that way!]

[What if you destroy the book?]

Celty weaved through several lanes in order to avoid hitting other vehicles, particularly Saburo's van.

[Shizuo!]

[SHIZUO!]

The intended recipient of the message had been even with the headless rider for this entire chase, but his tunnel vision was worse than Shooter's.

He jumped on top of an old couple's parked sedan (not that they noticed- they were deaf and half-blind and not fit to drive it anyway) before leaping from it onto the side of a truck that happened to be pulling over. Instead of hitching a ride on the side of the truck by grabbing on, Shizuo busted through its wall and cannonballed out the other side, choosing instead to latch onto the ambulance that was passing the slowed truck.

If the emergency patient inside the ambulance wasn't suffering from a heart attack before, he certainly was now.

Finally, after Celty had weaved through the Ikebukurean jungle to match up to her friend's traffic acrobatics, she pulled up next to the flashing emergency vehicle, stood on top of the handlebars of her bike-horse hybrid, and pressed her PDA to Shizuo's sunglasses.

When he still didn't seem to react, she snatched away the little device, wiped its screen off on his sleeve, removed his sunglasses, and put her PDA in their place.

[DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHERE YOU ARE GOING?]

Lord knows why Shizuo does what he does and gets what he gets, but it was most likely divine doings (and the fact that Shizuo wasn't too terribly infuriated to begin with) that led him to see, comprehend, and respond to Celty's message. His head recoiled in surprise and, after glancing at Celty, he hopped off the moving emergency vehicle. A deafening _crunch_ sounded as his feet hit the asphalt.

Shizuo's footprints would remain in the broken road for about two weeks before the city of Ikebukuro decided to repave over them.

When Celty finally doubled back and parked next to the now-stationary Shizuo, he was scratching his head with one finger outstretched, like an ape. The resemblance was even more striking when he used his other arm to adjust the piece of his weskit that had been wedged beneath his armpit during his brief ambulance ride.

"Yeah," he began, "I have no idea where the owner goes after they leave the park. I didn't really think that one through. Sorry about that."

On impulse, Celty furiously typed into her handheld, [DON'T TELL ME, TELL THEM], but erased it when she noticed Shizuo's reaction to his manmade traffic jam.

"Well, that'll come out of my paycheck, too, I guess," he muttered dejectedly.

The particular frown he wore didn't suit him in the least- he looked pitiful without his sunglasses to shield his face from the world. Oh, right, his sunglasses! She reached out a hand to stop him so she could return them, but flinched when a piercing scream cut through the city streets.

It wasn't a human scream, but the scream of a siren- and it didn't belong to the ambulance, either.

Motorcycle cops. _The white bike was coming!_

Celty hopped on her own black bike and revved up the engine. Oh, but Shizuo-! They were after her, not him, but this destruction would certainly not go unnoticed… and that man on the white bike was so callous! There was no way Shizuo could interact with them and not enter a new, more permanent, fit of rage.

So, with the help of some urging from her PDA and her shadow giving him an extra push, Shizuo found himself on the back of the black bike, hurtling towards a new destination.

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><p>...And that was chapter three, with lots of my two favorite characters- Shizuo and Celty! Added bonus to the real owner, Mr. Narita, 'cause they are both the best of friends.<p>

It was totally intentional that Shizuo gave his "First Words" that the reader can read to Celty. Ooooh, I'm sooooooooooo deep or something. Not really.

Where are they headed? You'll just have to guess- a guess in a review'd be nice. I hate to sound like a jerk, but I write these for public enjoyment... and the self-serving purpose of improving my writing, character development/portrayal, sense of humor, choice of topic, and even (in some cases) grammar. I would be ecstatic if you guys'd drop me a hint as to how I'm doing and what you'd like to read. I'm only unflexible in that I _will not write porn_. That is, like, the only stipulation I have. So, please, _please_ read and review, if you would be so kind. Feedback- even hysterical flames, sometimes- is more fun.


	4. Dr Shinra or: How I Learned to Stop

_**Warning:** Again, beware Shizuo's foul mouth and a few gags involving women's underwear. It's nothing to bad- it's just Shinra being Shinra. _

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><p><em><strong>Chapter Four- Dr. Shinra or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb <strong>_

Celty knew that she was basically suicide-bombing the apartment by bringing Shizuo in while Shinra was home. Sure, she loved the unorthodox doctor, but she knew that Shinra was, well, he may have been a brilliant scientist, but Shinra was still idiotic enough to provoke Shizuo at any possible moment.

He'd claim it was in the name of science- that he was just keeping track of any changes in the ex-barista's muscular capabilities or something. It didn't really matter to Celty why Shinra did what he did to Shizuo; she just knew that his antics weren't a good idea.

Of course, neither was allowing Shizuo and Shinra to interact in an enclosed space. But leaving Shizuo to deal with the cops was the greater evil, so she figured that the three of them would just have to deal with the consequences of being around one another.

She just hoped that when things started to escalate, she could diffuse the bomb before her dearly beloved became the dearly departed.

Regardless, she snuck past most of the public eye as she zoomed between buildings, above dumpsters, through a car wash (Shizuo had been whapped in the face by the rotating brushes a few times), around street vendors, into a few unlucky clotheslines, through a window or five, back around it all again, and into her apartment building before dismounting her bike and thanking it profusely in her, well, whatever does the thinking in a Dullahan.

Poor Shooter really didn't get enough credit, but what can one do in gratitude for an immortal, shape shifting, and obedient mode of transportation that neither eats, sleeps, nor speaks? The mental "thank you" was the only token Celty could really give her trusty companion.

Speaking of trusty companions, Shizuo was dizzy from the incredible route Celty had taken to get back to her place of residence.

"Man, transporter, you really gunned it!" He ungracefully tipped off of his seat and steadied himself against the wall before sliding the ladies' brassiere (a souvenir from the clothesline encounter) off of his face. She could tell that he was exhilarated by the ride from the light flush on his face. Shizuo exhaled an excited breath and looked down at the article of clothing in his hands.

When he realized what it was, he swiftly placed in in Celty's outstretched and steadying palms.

"I think you can use that more than I can," he said, and she couldn't tell if his face was reddened from the ride or the bra.

If Celty had been an ordinary woman, Shizuo would have been correct in his bra assumption. The headless rider, however, wore nothing but her shadow and had no need for real clothing. Celty knew better than to explain this to Shizuo- she found it neither dignified nor pertinent for her male friend to understand that she was not human and did not need a bra because her perfect breasts were incapable of sagging.

She shrugged, slung the clothing over her shoulder, and pulled out her PDA.

[Sorry about the sudden ride. There would have been trouble if the cops had found you.] Celty knew better than to tell him about her acute fear of the head motorbike cop- if Shizuo found out, he'd stop at nothing to get the law (at least, its enforcers) off of her back.

It would have been a sweet gesture, but neither of them needed to get into another mess.

"No, it's okay. You're right." He gave the bike a sideways grin. "'Sides, It was kind of fun!"

In reply, Celty tilted her head a little and showed him her handheld screen again. [You can come in if you want. Shinra's here unless he got called in for a job.] Shizuo's face didn't seem to change at the doctor's mention, so she took that as a good sign and led her guest to the apartment door.

She had hardly walked into the living room before Shinra popped up from his place on the floor (what had he been doing there, anyway?) and raced to her side.

"Celty, my honey!" Chipper as usual. "How was that job? Not too bad, I hope."

Prior to her rendezvous with Shizuo in the park, Celty had delivered a package to the Awakusu. It was some kind of watercolor pencil or something, apparently- the man she'd given them to had laughed at her cautious handling of the goods and shown her what was inside.

It was hard to believe that the headless rider had been used as a simple delivery girl for such an innocent product, but she wasn't complaining.

[The job was easy.]

"Oh, that's great! Does that mean we have the afternoon to ourse—" Just then, Shizuo strode into the room from changing his shoes.

"Hey, Shinra," he said, and the other man replied with a pout.

[Shinra, don't be rude. I ran into Shizuo and brought him over here when I heard the-] her shoulders shook a little [-motorcycle cops approaching. Is that okay?]

"My darling honey, I wanted to have you all to myself this afternoon, but I suppose I can share you with-" Shinra's eyes fell on the flowery lingerie draped over his roommate's shoulder.

He snatched it up instantaneously. Celty would have been just as quick to realize the hell that broke loose in Shinra's mind upon seeing her enter the apartment with an unhooked bra and another man had she been one to interact with undergarments regularly. Unfortunately, she hadn't thought of it earlier and now it was too late. She regretted not tossing the thing out the window before Shinra could see it.

She began to type frantically.

Shinra gaped like a fish for about three minutes (accentuating his disbelief with throaty gasps in fifteen second intervals) before he managed real words.

"WHAT IS THIS?"

Celty had been spamming him with explanations on her PDA, but her assurance of the innocent origins of the bra could not stop Shinra's emotional oozing. The frilly straps and conspicuously-placed daisy pattern on the front of the cups did not help, either- his eyes hadn't left them since he'd spotted them.

"I THOUGHT- YOU SAID- JUST FRIENDS! BUT HE- REAL CLOTHING? WHY? IS THIS SOME KIND OF KINK Y THING HE MADE YOU DO? HOW-CELTY, DID SHIZUO FORCE YOU WITH HIS BRUTE STRENGTH TO DO THINGS IN REAL CLOTHES? WHY-? SICK BRUTE! VILLANOUS CUR! OPRESSIVE APE! CELTY, YOU'RE PERFECT JUST AS YOU ARE, YOU DON'T NEED LINGERIE! HOW COULD ANYONE WANT TO COVER UP YOUR GORGEOUS, CURVY—"

Celty was able to force a little bit of text into Shinra's mind. [NO- Shizuo didn't make me do ANYTHING like that!]

"YOU DID IT BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO? CELTY MY HONEY AM I NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU? I'LL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU- I CAN BE AN UNNATURAL ANOMALY LIKE THAT GUY- I'LL WORK OUT AND EAT NAILS FOR BREAKFAST EVERY DAY AND TRY TO LIFT VENDING MACHINES AND BE SO MANLY NOBODY BUT RIPLEY CAN BELIEVE IT- I CAN BE A WHOLE MUSEUM OF RIPLEY'S BELIEVE-IT-OR-NOT IF THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT!"

Celty was about to force her next message down his throat (along with her handheld so he'd at least shut up), but Shizuo beat her to the punch.

Luckily, there was not a literal punch involved. Yet.

"Shinra, what are you talking about?" He already looked annoyed by Shinra's infernal yelling, but can you imagine what he'd look like if he had caught onto the things Shinra was implying? Naïveté could only stall the impending doom Shizuo would no doubt bring upon the Kishitani residence, because Shinra proceeded to make himself obnoxiously clear:

"YOU AND MY DARLING, BEAUTIFUL, WONDERFUL, PERFECT CELTY HAVE BEEN FOOLING AROUND BEHIND MY BACK."

"…What?"

Okay, perhaps Shizuo needed a little more help than the average person. Shinra got past the frantically texting Celty and got face-to-face with Ikebukuro's Fighting Doll.

"YOU AND MY BLACK QUEEN, THE MARINADE ON MY SANDFISH, THE LOVE OF MY LIFE, HAVE BEEN DOING KINKY, NAUGHTY, TERRIBLE, _WONDERFUL_ THINGS WITHOUT ME!"

Shizuo began to see the picture when the insufferable doctor began listing adjectives, but when he threw in "_WONDERFUL_", Shizuo was lost again.

Shinra held the brassiere up to Shizuo's face so he was staring straight at the daisies. "THIS SEXY PIECE OF INTRIGUE PROVES IT! ADMIT IT!" He began to shake the bra vigorously so that it rhythmically bopped Shizuo in the face.

_"Stop it!"_

The doctor did not heed him. "ADMIT THAT CELTY HONEY IS SO IRRESISTABLE THAT YOU BEGGED HER TO HAVE MERCY UNTIL SHE RELENTED AND FELT PITY ON YOU SO YOU AND SHE HAVE BEEN HAVING S-"

"GET THIS DAMNED THING OUT OF MY FACE!"

"IT'S NOT AS GOOD AS THE REAL THING, IS IT? NOTHING IS AS AWESOME AS THE REAL ENCHANTRESS! _YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME_!"

"WHAT ARE YOU GETTING AT?" Shizuo ripped the bra out of Shinra's hands (the daisies on the cups, anyway) and loomed over him like an impending air raid. Looking at Shizuo's unshaded eyes through the frilly tangle of the remainder of the bra reminded Shinra of a wild beast glaring at passersby from the depths of the jungle. It wasn't very comforting.

Shinra's voice withered down immediately, on account of both the terrifying aura radiating from Shizuo and the brutal way he handled the brassiere. (On the other hand, the torn lingerie was also the reason the man of science ignored his logical side's urges to shut up entirely, so he hadn't actually been discouraged at all.) "Shizuo, you have to be _gentle_ with her. How can you be such a brute?"

Ah, an insult- something Shizuo could actually understand. He snagged the good doctor by his white lab coat. "Shinra, do you want me to_ tear you apart BECAUSE I WILL_."

Celty, who had resigned herself to standing between them both with her helmet in her hands (from laughter or exasperation, we'll never know), butted between the two and pushed them apart. She turned to face her roommate first.

[SHUT UP, SHINRA.]

"Yes, my darling!" Shinra, despite his conviction that Celty had been unfaithful, was still totally and utterly whipped.

Shizuo was not so tame, however. It took a bit more coaxing and patience to calm him down, but Celty did eventually manage to get them both quiet and obedient before she explained the origins of the bra to Shinra.

Actually, she had been quite successful in bossing them around- she had even made Shinra prepare tea for Shizuo as she was proving the blonde's innocence.

Shinra was the first to speak after the tea had been poured. "So, what was so special about this person Shizuo was running after? That's what started the whole fiasco."

Celty made a slashing motion across her throat (which was silly, as she had no head to mime severing) to keep Shinra from setting Shizuo off again, but the question had already been thrown out there.

Shizuo put down his tea.

"That asshole has this notebook that they keep dicking around with all the time and it's driving me insane." Besides his foul language, the only hint of Shizuo's annoyance was the intense grip he had on his knees.

[Shizuo has been curious about what's in this particular book for several days and he tried to point it out to me. The owner left before he could, so he chased after them. He wanted to prove he wasn't imagining the book's existence,] Celty added.

"Oh, and you went after him to keep him out of trouble! You are such a faithful friend, Celty! You're so perfect!" Shinra threw himself at her. She shoved him away.

[Get ahold of yourself.]

"But Shizuo, seriously? You went ballistic over wanting to peek in a notebook?"

"Yeah."

"That's low."

Shizuo looked up at Shinra and a look of shock, anger, and then self-loathing crossed his face.

Celty was going to berate Shinra, but the next words out of his mouth both overtook her and dispelled any notion that her beau was being malicious.

"I can't believe you'd do something as low as make up a fake chase in order to have a romantic ride with Celty through the streets of Ikebukuro! …Actually, I can't believe I didn't think of it!"

"Hey! The person really exists- they really were there!" Shizuo's anger was building again.

"Whatever, I know you were just overtaken by Celty's charm and planned for an exciting ride through the city." He forgot all about the notebook conspiracy and retreated into his own sick mind. "Sitting so close in such a time of danger~!" Shinra was just fantasizing to himself now, but Shizuo didn't know that.

The angry young man stood up and Celty swore that the sound that erupted from his chest mimicked an entire bombing squadron flying above her.

"Holding onto Celty's gorgeous perfection while the world flies by and wraps you in a cocoon of Ikebukuro love~!"

Shizuo exploded and nothing could stop him. Celty didn't even try.

As the sun slowly set on the city, several inhabitants snapped a photo on their cell phones of a mushroom-shaped cloud engulfing the top floor of a certain apartment complex.

Puts a whole new spin on the term "homewrecker", doesn't it?

When Shizuo went to bed that night, he thought about how lucky he was to have a friend like Celty who didn't hate him when he trashed her shared apartment. He was grateful for that idiot Shinra, too.

As for them, Shizuo knew they were lucky to have one another.

He felt a little unwell. Had Shinra put something in his tea? No, the doctor wouldn't do that. Maybe he was just tired.

After a few more minutes of tossing and turning, Shizuo got up and looked in the mirror. Was it his imagination or did he look a little green? He turned on the light and let it flood out into the rest of his apartment- it wasn't like there was anyone else in there with him who would be bothered by it.

Disgusted with himself, Shizuo turned the lights back off and went to bed.

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><p>Wow! I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would- I never know when I am and am not going to have oodles of time on a computer, so the update rate of this is, well, rather random. You'll get, like, five chapters real quick and then, like, nothing for, like, ever and then a whole bunch again and... aw, whatever, you get the point.<p>

NOTHING SAYS OBNOXIOUS LIKE CAPS LOCK. OH, CAPS LOCK, YOU WERE MADE FOR SHINRA. I hope I didn't make any of you actually gouge your eyes out from the BIG RANTS he gave.

Anyway, thank you to all of you who are reviewing and watching! I really appreciate it more than you know!


	5. Road Rage

_Chapter Five- Road Rage_

Blue skies, mild temperature, clear roads, and an empty vehicle- this was a perfect morning for driving. Saburo Togusa languidly slid his hand over the center console and flipped on the radio. This was so awesome- the weather was awesome, the music was awesome, and, as always, his van was most definitely awesome.

See, Saburo normally hung around with a ragtag group of foreigners and delinquents- and he liked 'em fine, but what Saburo was most connected to in his everyday life was his big, beautiful, can-accomidate-seven-adults-comfortably-or-two-adults-and-two-otaku-with-fifty-bunko-and-one-unfortunate-victim van, and getting the treat of cruising in it all by himself was just _awesome._

The only thing he needed was to drink his morning milk.

Luckily, there was a convenience store on the other side of the park that he was driving past. He figured he could leave his precious car for a few moments and get his refreshment. He expected to be gone maybe five minutes at the most.

What he did not expect was for Shizuo Heiwajima meander into convenience store with him.

It shouldn't have been a notable event at all. Saburo was perusing the dairy case, and, discovering that there was only one regular whole milk left, decided to take one of the many fruit milks framing it. It wasn't a big deal- Saburo liked fruit milk. Besides, his day had been going so great that he felt like being a nice guy and leaving that particular bottle for someone who really needed it. He straightened himself out and smiled at how spectacular his day was going to be.

Cue Shizuo.

Saburo turned and walked to the counter to pay for his drink when he saw the tall man walk through the door. And "walk through the door" he almost did- the door was automatic, so Shizuo's forceful, preemptive shove on its surface betrayed his awful mood.

What else did you expect? He woke up feeing badly, probably from guilt over Shinra and Celty's apartment. At least, that's the only reasoning he could give. Then he stupidly opened a window to look outside- Shizuo knew that the cool temperatures and light breeze signified a rain storm for later today and he'd have to go muck around with some other indebted mucks in bad weather. Now he felt more annoyed. The topper on his morning came when he opened the refrigerator and realized he had no milk.

And then he got even madder when he realized that the convenience store closest to where he was going to meet Tom was right by _that_ park where _that thing_ kept appearing.

Saburo scurried out of the way of the refrigerated case and went to pay for his fruit milk. He got all antsy when Shizuo, who was giving off fumes of fury, slammed the last bottle of whole milk beside Saburo's fruity variety on the counter- Shizuo Heiwajima was in a bad enough mood to be _that _guy- the jerk that takes the _last one._

Oh, how Saburo missed the safety of his van! He hurriedly paid, snatched up the baggy the cashier held out, and practically ran out the door.

When he succeeded in _practically _running out the door, he _literally_ ran all the way back to his car. He lifted the car latch, jumped into his seat, closed himself in, and scrounged around in the plastic bag for his morning refreshment.

He hadn't quite fished it out yet when he saw a man in a bartender getup sprinting towards the back window.

Saburo panicked. He pulled his van out into traffic (somehow avoiding an accident- Saburo accredited this to the awesomeness of his ride) and valiantly broke about seventeen traffic laws in the hope of escaping Ikebukuro's infamous Fighting Doll.

Now, given Shizuo's traffic acrobatics from the prior day, do you really think Saburo could succeed in getting away from the pursuing barista? No? Yes? Maybe? Whatever you may think, Saburo Togusa was foolhardy enough to try.

On Shizuo's end, there was no doubt that his prey would be caught. It took about three minutes total from the time Saburo started his van to the time that Shizuo _Frogger_ed through oncoming traffic, rolled under a moving truck (the same one he'd punched through yesterday, interestingly enough), and gripped the door of Saburo's seat with his palms and toes like a human starfish.

When the car finally halted at the next traffic light, Shizuo tapped on the van window. Even behind a wall of tinted glass, Shizuo's face was the stuff of nightmares. The closeness didn't help, either.

One panic attack later, Saburo turned off the radio rolled down his window.

"H-hey. Can I help you?"

Shizuo wordlessly held up a colorful milk container. After a pause, the blonde man explained his gesture. "You took the wrong one." He dropped the fruit milk into Saburo's lap.

"Oh. Uh, thanks."

They stayed frozen like that, with Shizuo's eyes piercing into Saburo's.

"Can I have my milk back?"

Oh! Right! They'd been swapped! "Y-yeah! Here, sorry!" Saburo madly shuffled for the other's bottle and, with trembling hands, gave it to him.

Saburo was not normally so terrified of Shizuo, but the fury barely contained within was enough to make anyone quake.

However, Shizuo's mood seemed to lighten considerably when he placed his hand upon the cool glass of the milk bottle.

At that moment, the light turned from red to green. "Thanks."

Being a man accustomed to the rules of the road, Saburo took notice of the inconvenienced commuters behind him before they even started to honk and curse. He also understood that any road rage the other drivers produced would be absorbed by Shizuo. And he knew how ridiculous they both looked with the tall guy clinging to his car like a window sticker.

So, with all this in mind, Saburo felt inclined to let the Trojan Horse into his own impregnable fortress on wheels.

"Hey, uh, Shizuo?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you want a ride?"

Two eyebrows lifted themselves from the bridge of Shizuo's nose before settling back down in an expression of befuddlement rather than anger.

"You sure you won't mind?"

No, he was sure. Saburo was quite sure that he DID MIND Shizuo in the car. The guy had previously ripped off the passenger door- Saburo did not want this man in a thirty-mile radius of his car.

"Yeah, it's cool." Alas. Leaving Shizuo behind was no longer an option.

"Okay. Thanks." Shizuo accepted. Saburo had the most peculiar sensation that the fruit milk in his lap suddenly felt warm in relation to his body. Oh, well.

This is how Saburo Togusa found himself with a new travelling buddy in the front passenger seat.

"Okay, uh, so where to?" Shizuo had buckled himself in and proceeded to sit there without saying anything. Since Saburo knew better than to startle the beast in any way lest it charge, he hadn't moved. The other drivers behind him were furious.

"Oh! Right. I'm going to meet Tom, so…" Shizuo told Saburo the address of the apartment complex he was to meet his boss at. Saburo knew the area (thank God), and was relieved to put his foot on the gas pedal.

Shizuo's silence was unsettling, but Saburo was secretly relieved that he hadn't tried to start some kind of conversation. After all, the wrong questions or comments would get your face beaten in. Or worse, your car door.

Still, the guy was eerily quiet. Maybe he did want to risk it and start a conversation- if just to break the silence. He considered the radio for a moment. Was there any kind of music that would not offend the blonde dude?

No. It's safer to talk about the weather. "So, it's a cool day today, huh?"

Shizuo exhaled. "It's going to rain eventually." His earlier rotten mood was reemerging. Gruffly, he considered his dairy. "Can I have this in your car?"

Open foot, insert mouth. Had Saburo known that he'd trigger Ikebukuro's strongest's dairy craving, he would have never, ever asked about a refreshing breeze. _What if he got milk on the upholstery?_

"Uh, sure."

Geez, Saburo felt like a total wuss.

Shizuo downed the whole bottle in one gulp.

"Thanks." His fingers drummed on the outside of the glass. "I just don't want to deal with some assholes in the rain, and thinking about it made me mad."

"Oh? And milk helps?" Saburo turned the color of his van. What was wrong with him? How did he let that slip?

"Yeah. Milk calms me down."

How unexpectedly civil. Saburo decided to run with it rather than away from it.

"Huh. Y'know, I've got this morning routine where I have a carton of milk in the morning. It's just something we've always done."

"That's nice. It's good to have traditions. I… I just like milk." Had you not known better, you would have believed that the story of Shizuo's fondness for milk ended there. Saburo did. He turned to look at his passenger and reply—

-But shut his mouth when he caught sight of the spectacular milk moustache that Shizuo was sporting. He covered his laughter with a fake cough and hiccup.

"Hey, you okay?"

"O-oh, yeah, just a little… chilly," he wheezed as Shizuo's bleached upper lip turned sideways in tandem with his head in concern, "It's all good."

Who would have pegged such an infamous character to be so charming?

"If you say so." Shizuo sat back in his seat and companionable quietude settled in the van.

It would've stayed that way had a figure in blue not crossed the street with a notepad in their hands.

"It's that damned pad!"

"Huh?"

"I've been seeing that book- and person, too, I guess- everywhere and I'm so curious to see what's inside that I go outta my way to find out and EVERY DAMNED TIME they get away and it's so ANNOYING! SHIT!" Shizuo had sat up and was now leaning forward over the dashboard. "THAT one- in the hat!"

True, Saburo wanted Shizuo to be placated for his van's sake, but he had also taken a shine to the guy and was willing to go on a wild goose chase to help his new friend. He cut the wheel and entered the throng of pedestrians, honking at them to part the waters.

"What are you-?"

"We're gonna find that notebook!"

"Huh?" The implications took a moment to register.

"Point her out to me!"

Shizuo grinned at his driver. "There- rounding a corner!"

Saburo spied the conspicuous hat sitting atop a conspicuous head just before it disappeared from sight around a building. He smiled a tiger's smile and hit the gas and horn in tandem. "MOVE, ASSHOLES!"

"YOU'RE CRAZY!"

"SO ARE YOU!" Saburo just laughed, totally forgetting that the man next to him could destroy him with a flick of his wrist. But there were more important matters to attend to at the moment, so neither noticed any reason for conflict. "Point her out to me while I avoid these idiots!"

"Take a right!"

Saburo did, as aggressively as an enormous van could.

"Left!"

"Right!" Saburo affirmed.

"No, LEFT!"

"Yeah, right! I know!"

"No, moron, _LEFT_!"

Saburo turned the correct way and would have kept going had a gigantic roadblock not been formed around Russia Sushi, complete with police and fire trucks- apparently, today's special had proven too hot to handle. The figure with the hat and book had disappeared somewhere in the chaos.

"Dammit!" Saburo explained.

Shizuo yelled and cursed and screamed for a moment (and Saburo swore to himself that he was going to die as a result of the ex-bartender's wild gesticulations), but neither the vehicle nor the driver were damaged. Finally, Shizuo opened the door to the van and got out.

"I'm meeting Tom near here anyway." He was still furious, but his rage, like the rain, was being withheld by some unseen force. "Thanks for the ride. Sorry for wasting your time." He slammed the door only a little harder than necessary and skulked off.

All things considered, Shizuo Heiwajima was not a bad sort. Saburo opened his own fruit milk and proceeded to take a sip.

He then proceeded to spit it out when Erika Karisawa suddenly shouted her greetings through his side window.

"Holy shit, Erika! What is your _problem_?"

"Nooooothing. I just saw you and Shizu-chan sitting side-by-side in the van~!" Her perverse inflection was impossible to ignore. "I didn't realize you and Izaya were competing!"

"Whoa, Erika! Cool down!" Walker Yumasaki's familiar voice was completely drowned out by her next question.

"So you gotta tell me- so I'll know for sure- is Shizu-chan seme or uke?"

Saburo put the car in gear and left them. At least, he tried to. The sushi shop blockade, the seme of the situation, screwed his plan. Karisawa and Yumasaki quickly jumped into the backseat of the van.

"C'mon, spill it! Why was Shizu-chan sitting _ramrod straight_ in the passenger seat and looking all upset? Did you guys fight?"

"Weird. Shizuo actually kind of sits like Dotachin, except madder. Hmm." Walker thoughtfully placed a hand on his chin.

"Oh my gosh, Yumacchi! That's_ genius_~! Saburo is terribly in love with Shizu-chan, who rejected him for Izaya, and that's why he's always driving around with us- Dotachin is Shizu-chan's replacement! Oh, the drama! The tragedy! The misguided romantic tension~!"

"No, you morons! We were chasing after this chick with a notebook and a hat because Shizuo is fixated on it!"

"On what? The book or the hat?"

Thank the powers that be that Erika had not seen Shizuo's milk moustache. There would be no end to her absurd fantasies if she had.

Still, the stars in Erika's eyes only got brighter. "Oh, don't worry, Saburo- a girl with a hat and notebook isn't going to tear you and Shizu-chan apart." She adjusted her own headgear. "A girl with a hat and a notebook is going to bring you together." Perhaps there was no stopping her anyway.

Walker's narrow eyes scanned over her. "I've heard of a notebook that could kill people, but it had nothing to do with a hat. What are you referencing?" He gasped in wonder. "Oh, man, wait, are you foreshadowing for the next adventure? That's so cool!"

While the otaku duo chattered incessantly, Saburo Togusa just looked out the window and sighed. Hopefully Shizuo's day would get better- the rain was holding off, after all.

* * *

><p>This sucker hasn't been read-over and edited very heavily, so if you see an issue, please tell me- don't be shy! Also, there WILL be plot. Soon. I promise. There will also be a deviation from canon- currently, the Slasher is a new thing in this fic- Mr. Niekawa got pounded by Shizuo maybe... three weeks prior to the beginning of the first chapter? I'm totally messing with the timeline, I know. Oh, well.<p>

As always, read and review, please! I so appreciate it!

Also, beware: The Three Amigos are rapidly approaching!


	6. You Know You Want Me Too

_Part Six- You Know You Want Me To(o)_

The clouds still bore down upon the city like the jacket on a homeless man's shoulders, but there was a lightweight quality to them- the residents of the city knew that a downpour would not drench them much like the homeless man knew that his jacket would not keep him warm.

With such a bleak outlook as a backdrop, it's really no wonder that Kida Masaomi stuck out so much. Sunny hair, sunny smile, and bright eyes made this kid seem like he didn't belong to Tokyo's gloomy theatre district that day.

Which was funny, since his sunny façade was all a masterful act. Funnier still, since he was but a puppet on Izaya's stage.

Hysterical, since he was putting on a show with a bleaker outlook than the weather. It was a pity, since the audience was unappreciative; the one with the blue-grey eyes was a particular downer.

"Masaomi, this is hopeless. I feel bad just watching you fail."

If only Mikado knew.

"Aw, I'm not failing, man! They're just makin' a chase for me. It's no fun if it's too easy!"

"Really?"

"I mean, yeah! Why do you think I brought you here? It was, like, so easy before I had your gloomy face around to make things more interesting! I figure, if I can hook up with 'em even with you around, I've become the most desirable guy in the world!"

"Wait a minute. You said bringing others along made it easier."

Masaomi laughed. "Dude, that was about Anri, not you! I've explained this before- another chick makes other chicks feel like it's safe. That's why it helps."

"But if you want a challenge, why do you need the advantage of another girl?"

Oh, Mikado looked so smug. But his best friend was ready for him. "Come on, man. Even the most handsome guy around can't possibly overcome the handicap you create. You're like a cock-block vacuum- Nobody is strong enough to withstand your unstudly influence without some kind of help the first few times. I think every couple in a five block radius of you temporarily breaks up because of your unattractive vibes."

Anri, the female, innocently blinked and wondered what on earth Masaomi was getting at.

"So Anri is keeping you afloat in my sea of gloom, is that it?"

Masaomi wiggled his eyebrows at his shorter friend's breasts. "Can you blame me for grabbing on?" Anri flushed.

"_Masaomi_!" Astounded, Mikado bunched himself up in a perfect picture of outrage.

He released himself at his best friend, who deftly danced away from the other's offensive defense of their mutual bespectacled gal pal.

It was enthralling to watch the three teenagers have a friendly squabble. The sincerity of their antics was intensified because they had no regard for anyone watching.

Someone was, of course. Someone was always watching. Masaomi knew it better than anyone, except perhaps that all-seeing vulture in Shinjuku.

Today, though, the person watching was not Izaya Orihara, but Shizuo Heiwajima.

He had turned his attention to the three friends only when they had approached his field of vision, but he was now observing with more than some interest.

You see, the girl with the hat and the paper was in the park, but she wasn't scribbling vigorously like Shizuo had expected. No, her dexterous activities had slowed to a tranquil, steady pace. This was not what Shizuo had anticipated- he had told himself that the paper would be a-twirling, the pencil would be a-scratching, and his blood pressure would be ascending. Only the last was happening, and the only reason that it was happening was because the first two were not.

Curiouser and curiouser! Now, more than ever, he wanted to see the contents of the pages, especially since he felt that he was going to lose his temper over it a third time.

But how? How was Shizuo going to get that pad of paper? He could just wrench it out of her hands, and-!

He knew he wouldn't do that. It wasn't his to take. Besides, Shizuo knew his reputation didn't leave him smelling like roses, but he was no bully and he'd be damned if he became one.

And then the Masaomi Kida troupe appeared front and center. Their namesake and leader pirouetted around in front of the oblivious girl and froze in front of her. He was poised just so Shizuo's view of the girl and notebook was completely obscured.

Not good- whenever Shizuo had let either out of his sight in the past, they had disappeared. This blonde kid had thrust himself in the most troublesome position imaginable and Shizuo was going to have _none of it._

His cigarette was slowly bending in his hands. Five degrees, ten degrees, fifteen degrees…

Fortunately for Masaomi Kida, he couldn't even successfully flirt with death. His on-the-spot blocking suddenly moved him far enough so that Shizuo could once again see the infernal notebook and its master. It was a move that very well may have saved his life.

Shizuo released the chokehold on his smoke, but he did not relax. What if the dumb blonde and his flunkies took the girl and sketch-diary thing away? Just because he could actually _see_ them both leave this time did not mean he was okay with it happening.

Suddenly, the obnoxious kid was intercepted by his introverted wingman.

The dark-haired boy in the Raira uniform (at least, Shizuo felt sure it was a Raira uniform) butted into the blonde's spotlight. He said a few words to the girl and then he brought the whole performance to a stunning conclusion- Shizuo and the hipster gaped as the preppier boy smiled, reached out his hand, and _took the pad of paper_.

Then, wonder of wonders, he gently turned the pages and feasted his eyes on whatever secrets there were inside, shared the contents with his busty Raira classmate, and gave the magical book right back to its owner like it was no big deal.

Astounding.

Shizuo dropped his mostly unmarred cigarette. Was it really that simple? All he needed to do was just walk up and ask? Could even he, the god of destruction (in a bartender suit), look at the book like that kid just had?

He watched in awe as the three Raira uniforms exchange a few pleasantries with the hat before moving on to other things.

Miss Hat and her notebook were alone again.

Shizuo sat up straighter.

He got to his feet.

And then he took one step.

Then another.

Another.

This was _easy_. Why in the world had he not thought of this two weeks ago?

Shizuo halted himself in front of the sketchpad, confidently planted his feet, inhaled deeply, and opened his mouth.

No sound came out. What should he say? How should he say it? See, the interesting thing about Shizuo is that he, despite popular belief, didn't call people out. It wasn't that he was afraid to do so, it just wasn't something he did.

At work, Tom called people out _for him_. In his private life, Celty would approach_ him_ and occasionally ask that he approach someone for _her_, but even then, it wasn't really Shizuo breaking the ice- it was Celty talking_ through_ Shizuo; he used his own face, voice, and inflection, but the direction and feeling was all her.

Occasionally, he'd try to talk to Simon. Shizuo was usually ignored for his trouble, so those attempts were all failures in the first place.

The only exception was Izaya, who he did not address by conventional means (and even then, it was IZAYA who had antagonized Shizuo when they first met- their more current interactions were really just a continuation of their first encounter.)

But Izaya didn't count anyways because he was a louse.

The reality was that Shizuo had no idea how to start this conversation. Actually, he had no idea how to start any kind of conversation- his social skills were stunted in the third grade by his uncontrollable destructive urges.

And destruct they did; interpersonal relationships and skills were one of the few things pertaining to Shizuo that did not come back stronger every time.

So he just did everything by the book, in routine, like there was some kind of guide that he could follow that would ensure that nothing unexpected, violent, or wrong could happen. If he stayed in the confines of literal rules, he could have a normal life. Maybe.

He cleared his throat and introduced himself like he always did on the first day of school since the fourth grade, the year after he'd single-handedly shattered his precious normalcy.

"Hey. My name's Shizuo Heiwajima and I don't like violence."

Next was the part where he would sit down at his desk and be unperturbed by the snickers that erupted around him- a guy named "peaceful man, tranquil island" didn't like violence. There's a joke in there somewhere, they would think.

Hat girl didn't offer him a place to sit, nor did she snicker. She didn't even acknowledge him.

They stayed like that for several minutes. Nothing happened except the occasional pencil stroke on paper.

"Hey."

No answer.

"Can you hear me?"

Silence.

"I said my name is Shizuo Heiwajima and I don't like violence."

Still no response.

"You're supposed to introduce yourself next."

Nothing.

"That's how this works, you know. I'm not making it up."

Conversations with yourself are strange things; calling out to nothingness is like testing the depths of emptiness in your own soul. The echoes are a chilling reminder that there is something missing, something longed for that has been denied you for too long.

However, when not even an echo returns, a fear greater than the hole within will consume you because you have become engulfed by the darkness inside. So far down, so lost, there is no hope for you.

Of course, such thoughts never entered Shizuo's head. He didn't like being ignored, sure, but he found the silence more annoying than unsettling. He wanted to do something about it.

Whenever Simon had given him the cold shoulder, somebody's motorcycle would land on his foreign skull. Except that was the near-indestructible Simon and this was a normal girl. Shizuo didn't hit girls. Usually.

"Are you ignoring me? I don't like that."

There was no deliberate action that she did to make him think she was actively ignoring him, however. It was almost like she really wasn't aware of him, like he didn't exist.

He was at a total loss as to what to do. He wasn't mad yet, just dumbfounded.

Had she shot him a cruel look, he could have qualified that as being called out. In fact, had any of her body language signified that she had been willfully cold to him in some way, Shizuo could have somehow justified that as reason to lose his temper. But she hadn't.

What had the other boy done that had made the book so accessible? Was there a magic word to break her trance?

"Abracadabra," he tried. He'd always wanted that to work for him just once.

It didn't. Darn. His temper was rising out of frustration, but he still had a ways to go before he blew his top. He reflected upon the situation.

Wait, why didn't he just ask the Raira kids what they had done? They certainly seemed to know how to talk to strangers. He unceremoniously dropped the half-baked conversation he was having and walked off in search of the three teenagers.

They weren't hard to spot- the blonde one was grandstanding around a bunch of girls seated on the wall at the entrance- It seemed that he was leading his cohorts in a circuit around the perimeter of the park. He hadn't made it very far, both with the current audience and in terms of distance.

The girls on the wall ran off as soon as they saw Shizuo approach.

"Hey, ladies! Where are you goin'? If you're trying to run into my arms, you're going the wrong direction!"

Masaomi noticed the shadow looming behind him. "Hey, you must want me pretty badly if you're willing to scare off the others, sweetheeeeeeaaaauuuuugh-" he finished turning around and slowly sent his eyes on a trip upward to meet those of Ikebukuro's Strongest, "—shit."

Alas, not even this newcomer had been taken in by Masaomi's charms. He bypassed the blonde and went straight for the baby-faced one, taking a new approach on icebreakers. "You."

This "new approach" was actually to take the same route he took with everything else in his life, meaning, there was no finesse or method- just go in swinging and get right to the point. Who cares if the ice to break wasn't literal? Shizuo was going to break it whether it could actually be done or not.

"What did you do to get that girl in the hat to show you her notebook?"

Mikado was terrified. "I- I'm sorry?"

The girl with the glasses stepped forward. "Oh, Mr. Heiwajima! These are my friends, Mikado Ryugamine and Masaomi Kida. Are we bothering you? We can leave."

Shizuo looked over the two boys from the tops of his tinted sunglasses. "Uh-huh." He narrowed his eyes and Mikado felt his knees threaten to buckle. Suddenly, the imposing man shifted his gaze back to Anri's face. "And who are you again?"

"Oh. Um," her pale skin turned scarlet. "I'm Anri Sonohara… you saved me from the…_Slasher_…" She prayed that nobody noticed her eyes turn the color of her cheeks. Her two friends did not- their own eyes were clouded with concern.

It still took Shizuo a moment more to place her. "Oh! You. How are you doing? I heard you got hurt."

"I'm okay now, thanks to you and the headless rider." In the back of her mind, Saika was whispering uncontrollable declarations of love. Anri reclaimed her place behind her friends- maybe it was a better idea to not interact with Shizuo so much so soon.

"That's good." He turned his attention back to Mikado. "Anyways," his tone of voice had become less forceful, but both boys were still intimidated, "I need your help."

In his head, Mikado staged a whole performance involving himself and Masaomi becoming human cannonballs for Shizuo to chuck at Izaya Orihara. It ended with the entire puppet theatre covered in red paint splats.

The older man's sigh broke him out of his reverie. "Look, I know it's stupid, but I really want to know what that girl over there is doing in that book." He scuffed his feet. "What did you say to make her show it to you?"

Mikado was stunned long enough for Masaomi to have to swoop in and save his ass.

"Hold up now, my man! If you want to talk to a girl, you need me, not that nerdy nincompoop! I'm the master- I taught him what little he knows, and I can learn you something, too!" First of all, "nincompoop" was the lamest insult ever, second, "learn you something" was terribly uncool, and third, Masaomi had totally mistaken Shizuo's situation and body language to mean something they definitely did not.

He slapped the other blonde on the back. Big mistake- he felt like he'd slammed his palm against an iron wall. Yeowch. Shizuo didn't seem to mind, though, and took Masaomi's false bravado seriously.

"Really?" The sunglasses turned to reflect him on their surface. "You'll help me?"

Like any normal person, Masaomi's first instinct was to say, "No way, dude!", and run away. A rumbling of thunder in the clouds above, however, acted as a sobering reminder that a Shizuo could strike faster than a Kida could travel.

The rumbling sounded again and Masaomi felt his bladder compress. The yellow sky might fall, after all. Crap, that would ruin everything.

Luckily, Mikado stepped in and held back the floodwaters.

"What he means is," he prayed that this would work and that they wouldn't all die today, "He's in the process of helping me, and we've been working as a team. It's kind of hard to teach this kind of thing to more than one person at once."

It was a point well made, but Shizuo totally missed it.

"So, you're saying that I need both of you to get her to show me her book?"

"Uh…"

He grinned beneath his glasses. "I _thought_ you were having some trouble when it was just you, blondie." Masaomi didn't have it in him to feign offense. "Anyway, how do I, um, get her to not ignore me?"

The male Raira duo shared a look. Mikado's plan had failed. Now they were stuck with a bartender who couldn't even get them free drinks.

"Would you rather just have them talk to her for you?" Anri was still there, but not fully. She felt herself slowly being moved out of her inner sanctum and felt it would be best to get Saika- which involved getting herself- far away from Shizuo Heiwajima. "I would help you too, but I really need to go. There's something that I forgot that I had to do today." She wasn't just trying to weasel out of helping, though. If her friends interacted with the girl for Shizuo, the chances of backfire lessened considerably. Besides, the girl in the hat had seemed uncomfortable around Anri for some reason. It really was better all around if she left.

Shizuo gave her another glance. As much as he wanted to know what was in that notebook, he didn't want this girl to get hurt again. Celty's fondness for her contributed to that.

"Do you need one of us to walk you home? I'm not such an asshole that I'd leave you helpless just so I can look at a book. It can wait."

Mikado and Masaomi were astounded at how chivalrous he sounded.

Namie Yagiri, had she been present, would have been aghast at how sexist he sounded.

Shizuo hadn't meant to be either.

It was in vain regardless. Anri had to control her inner demon alone. "No, thank you, I'll be okay." She turned and ran without looking back.

"She's a weird one," Shizuo muttered. Masaomi and Mikado tactfully kept their mouths shut and resisted the urge to go after their friend. They were both very worried about her, especially since she'd just gotten out of the hospital, but they knew better than to make any sudden movements in front of a wild animal.

With that in mind, the boys waited for the beast to determine the next course of action.

"I don't really want to make you guys talk to her for me- I kind of want to be able to do this for myself."

Mikado looked like he wanted to interject something, but Masaomi silenced him. "He'll figure that out for himself once we aren't close enough to get bludgeoned by a snack machine," he whispered.

Shizuo didn't notice their exchange. "Okay, so what do I do? I tried just introducing myself, but that got me nothin'. I thought about asking about the weather, but she wouldn't even give me her name." He scratched the back of his head. "Really, she probably just wants me to leave her alone. That would be fine, too, if she'd just have the decency to say it to me straight."

Well, this was a pickle. Masaomi was the first to chance asking Shizuo to do anything. "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but, um, can you reenact what went down with my buddy here? That way, it might be easier for us to help you out." He really wished the taller blonde had just gone with the option to make the Raira kids do the talking for him. Oh, well.

Shizuo looked puzzled. "You mean, pretend that this kid- sorry, I'm bad with names- is the girl?"

"You want us to role-play?" Mikado shouted.

"It's the best way." With a dazzling smile, Masaomi intercepted the outrage Mikado was mouthing before their new student could decipher it. He forced his best friend to sit down on the wall and gestured for Shizuo to stand so he could address him. The older man obliged, and Mikado trembled.

The scene suggested a mouse cowering before a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

"Okay." Shizuo shrugged his shoulders and thrust his hands in his pockets. He didn't like the idea, but it kind of made sense. "Hey. My name's Shizuo Heiwajima and I don't like violence."

He was deadpan when he said it, but it was a joke, right? Right? Poor Mikado was too terrified to laugh, so he just stood stock-still and stared.

Masaomi panicked when his friend froze. He vainly tried to gesture to make his buddy say something. Instead he only succeeded in making himself look like he was constipated.

"Damn," Shizuo finally said to Mikado, "you're good at this."

"Well," interrupted Masaomi, "Mikado was actually supposed to say something back, but obviously he wasn't clever enough to get the joke."

"I wasn't joking." And Shizuo's facial expression wasn't, either.

Masaomi followed Mikado's example and choked.

Luckily, the two boys made a great tag-team in Shizuo diversions- Mikado found his spine and quickly took the burden from his friend. "Maybe the girl couldn't come up with something to match that. Why don't we try again, but this time you make your introduction a little different? Maybe, um, don't try the classroom approach and go for something more personable."

…Had he offended the tall man?

No- everything was still okay. Shizuo considered Mikado's words for a moment and nodded in consent.

"Hey. I'm Shizuo Heiwajima and I'm more personable than I was last time." Was this guy for real?

Mikado had improved since the first go 'round, too- he was more prepared this time. "O-oh, well, so am I." Stellar comeback, bro.

"Well, that's good."

"Y-yeah."

Shizuo turned to face his overseer. "Annnnnnd that's all I got."

Masaomi just grinned at Mikado. "It wasn't too bad of a start, y'know, both of you. Mikado, you were an awesome chick." He sniggered.

Oh, that just wasn't _fair._ "But Masaomi, as our great teacher, you are so much better at doing things like this than me. Why don't we have you be the girl this time? That way, I can learn, too." Mikado could fight dirty, and this occasion called for it.

"Yes, but nothing teaches like experience," the charismatic one shot back.

"It might help to change it out a little, though. We need some variety- we don't know for sure how she'll act. What if she isn't as graceful and polite as me?"

Masaomi gave his best friend a glare. He wasn't going to go for it- it'd ruin all of his fun.

Aggravated and clueless to the friendly fight going on beneath his nose, Shizuo wrinkled his eyebrows. This sure was complicated. He mulled it over a while more. "Actually, I agree with Mikido, er, Mikado. I should be ready for any situation." Chalk another one up for the incarnation of violence- Shizuo had unwittingly won yet another fight, but this time with his obliviousness. Mikado's opinion of him was steadily ascending, especially since he got to make his best friend look like a ham.

Not that Masaomi wasn't already a ham. Mikado just wanted to see what he'd do in this predicament. And he could do that- Mikado could mess with the people he loved.

After all, wasn't messing with people one of the ways to show that you love them?

"Try to include a topic of conversation along with your name," he offered as the actors got into position.

Shizuo began. "Hey. I'm Shizuo Heiwajima. What do you want to talk about?"

As per usual, the Masaomi's coquettishness knew no bounds. He huffed on the park bench and flaunted with his hair a little.

"I wanna talk about what every girl wants to talk about- _me!"_

"What? About _you?"_ Wait, how was this helping, again?

"Uh, _yah!_ Don't you know _anything_?"

Shizuo had proven on multiple occasions that he indeed did not.

Kida pouted again. "Come on, sit down- there's a _lot_ to hear."

Shizuo did, but he didn't really want to.

"So, I was really mad at my best friend because she went out with my ex of two days- _I_ broke up with _him_ because he _didn't text me goodnight_ before I went to bed at seven; he sent me the text at, like, _nine_- and then that skank wore _my_ new top to go see him at the movies and then she got, like, not-diet soda all over it, and that _so_ totally means that they were making out because-_hello?_- why _else_ would a diet_ freak_ like her drink anything _but_ no-cal soda? Because real soda helps tone down the taste of her _filthy bitch mouth_, that's _why!_ And I really, _really_ liked that top, too." Masaomi was laying it on a little thick.

Perhaps a little too thick- all the signs of an incoming Shizuo tantrum were there, but Masaomi was blind to it.

"So you don't actually care about the guy at all?"

"Uh, that's a _no_. I only went out with him because he had cool hair…" Masaomi had the audacity to tilt his head and give the top of Shizuo's own a flirtatious glance.

"Because of his _hair?"_ This was the calm before the storm.

"Yeah, I really like…lighter hair." Mikado knew that Masaomi was really just referring to himself as the mystery ex-boyfriend, but it didn't cease to creep him out since the conversation could also, to an unknowing eavesdropper, be taken as a legitimate move on Shizuo.

(On the other side of the wall the two blondes were sitting on, Walker was pressing Erika's face into the earth in an attempt to keep her from screaming in ecstasy.)

"Well, not just his hair… he's also charming. And handsome. He's a real snappy dresser. He's, like, the manliest guy I know, too. And he tells _awesome_ jokes."

"Yes, but do you love him?"

Masaomi paused dramatically and then gushed out like the fountain beside them. "Okay, I lied. I fell in love with him at first sight! And now that he's gone, I am so totally on the rebound right now…do you think I could love you like I loved him?" Shizuo's reaction did not betray his mood, but Mikado _felt_ it in the air surrounding him. No, Masaomi Kida, no! Don't do it! NO! "You know you want me, too."

Shizuo shoved himself off the wall hard enough to leave indentations where his fingers previously rested and grabbed his cheeky student teacher by the front of his hoodie.

"NO, I DON'T WANT YOU. AND DO YOU KNOW WHY?" Shizuo didn't wait for an answer. "YOU DON'T JUST BREAK UP WITH SOMEBODY YOU LOVE OVER A MISSED PHONE CONVERSATION. IF YOU LOVE THEM, YOU TALK THROUGH YOUR PROBLEMS AND WORK THEM OUT- YOU DON'T JUST THROW PEOPLE AWAY. YOU CAN'T LOVE ME LIKE YOU DID HIM BECAUSE, AMONG OTHER THINGS, YOU NEVER LOVED HIM AT ALL! AND YOU DON'T LOVE ME, EITHER! YOU'RE TALKING THE IMPOSSIBLE, THINKING I'D LET YOU, ANYWAY! WHO MADE YOU THE MASTER OF WHAT IS AND ISN'T POSSIBLE? HUH? _HUH?"_

Heat lightning rattled in the air in tandem with Masaomi's body. It was impossible to tell which action was actively Shizuo's doing; Mikado had the strangest feeling that the Fortissimo was in control of both.

But like the heavens above, Shizuo miraculously kept himself from bringing his wrath down upon the city or its inhabitants.

Instead he brought down Masaomi, who hit the ground like a rock.

"Look, I'm sorry. I know I asked you guys for help, but people like that," he pointed to the blonde boy, but meant his fictional female persona, "people and things like that just make me so MAD." The sentence was punctuated by his fist slamming into the wall and busting a hole through it.

(Behind the ruined barrier, Erica and Walker held each other as Shizuo's hand dared to bash their heads in.)

"I JUST…CAN'T…DEAL WITH IT! SHIT!" He continued to scream obscenities in an attempt to release his anger without assaulting anything besides eardrums.

Finally, finally, he calmed down and lifted his face to the two teenage boys again. "You know what? Just forget it. I'm sorry I wasted your time." He kicked at some of the shrapnel that had rained down when he'd punched the wall.

The delivery was gruff, but he was sincere. Mikado began to wonder if Shizuo Heiwajima was as cruel and mean as everyone said he was.

Shizuo had turned his back on the boys to see if the paper pad was still there.

It wasn't, and neither was its owner. Figures.

"Tomorrow." Shizuo looked up at the sky. "I will ask again tomorrow."

(Upon hearing his proclamation, Erika cackled. "So that's when we'll make our move! We got here just in time!"

"What move? Everybody keeps talking about a girl, a hat, and a notebook, but I don't see what that has to do with anything! What move are you talking about?"

"Oh, Yumacchi, it's called suspense! Let's go before they find us!" She grabbed him by his backpack and they scurried away.)

Mikado felt compelled to call out to Shizuo.

"What if she isn't here?"

"She will be." He turned to go.

"Even if it rains?"

Shizuo sent Mikado a look from over his shoulder. "It won't," he spat out irritably, and walked away.

After he was out of earshot, Masaomi asked his friend, "Why do you care? Don't tell me you're going to come watch!"

Mikado huffed. "I just want to be here if something goes wrong."

"Dude! It's not your problem!" Just like the Slasher shouldn't be Masaomi's problem.

Mikado looked down at his shoes. "I know. But I just get this weird feeling…" The vibe Mikado had gotten from talking to Shizuo in person was very much like the one he had gotten when he had decided to use the Dollars to stop Namie Yagiri, except the pressure was projected onto another person. He wanted Shizuo to succeed in his task, though he didn't know why.

Shizuo was so sure, so confident, and so eager.

In his mind's eye, Mikado saw Celty's excited form from when they had talked about letting her have a conversation with her "head". Only, Celty hadn't really gotten to speak with her head at all. When he had learned all the details surrounding what had actually happened, Mikado had actually felt quite bad for her.

So, like the gang leader next to him, Mikado decided to make another's well-being his problem even though it shouldn't be.

Masaomi watched his friend with worried eyes the whole way home, averting his gaze only to step over a scruffy man huddling in the street. The man simply yawned, rolled over, and snuggled into his tattered coat.

* * *

><p>This is BY FAR the longest chapter, but the plot does begin to rear its ugly head, just like I promised. And since I've kept that promise- I'll make a new one. I promise that Izaya will appear shortly! Really, he will! I do hope, though, that you've been enjoying this fic even with his absent status thus far.<p>

If you haven't, I'll be so sad! Like Kazutawno, I'll tell you, "AIZO SAD!" and you will be left wondering, "What the hell does 'Aizo' mean?

And if you forget to read and review, I'll be sad then, too! (WOW it rhymes!) Thank you!

**EDIT:** Sorry, you guys! I saw a huuuuuuge mistake that I made in the text when linking together some of my turns of phrase and I just HAD to fix it. I'm still not that happy with this chapter, tho'...


	7. You Know You Wanted Me Act Two

_Part Seven: You Know You Want(ed) Me (Act) T(w)o_

There they all were- The clouds, the fountain, the benches, the thunder, the trees, and a few humans to pepper the set with some interest. They mingled around like ants on a hill, just waiting for a great glass eye to open up in the sky and observe them, move them, play with them, scare them, and then fry them all to a crisp like they were nothing.

Even from his balcony seat overlooking the park, though, Izaya didn't think that comparing his precious humans to ants did them justice. Ants weren't as loveable; they weren't as complex. The folks in the street were more like actors- they only had to have a role or idea suggested to them before they took off and did exactly what the director told them.

Actually, actors weren't correct, either- that suggested too much independence. The observant man couldn't help but lament that there wasn't an accurate metaphor to describe humans in any language. Nothing came close to their imperfect perfection; they were the only things in the world that were so self-directed and yet so easily swayed. But, in light of today's study, Izaya was content to compare human beings to puppets. It was appropriate for all of the humans currently participating in this little vignette- at least, it was appropriate for all of them except Shizuo Heiwajima.

That one was especially troublesome, since he continued to move even without the puppet master's direction. The freak must have broken his strings when he broke the limitations on his strength.

"But you know," Izaya said into the phone, "I think I may be able to fix our defunct Pinocchio. Some new threads have entered the picture, and if I tie up all the loose ends just right, Shizu-chan may not be a threat anymore."

On the other end of the line, Namie was busily doing all of her boss's menial, everyday tasks. "You know that Pinocchio ended with the puppet no longer being a puppet, right?"

Izaya clicked his tongue. "That's why Shizu-chan is defunct. He's moving on his own right now, at the beginning of the story, when he should be bouncing to and fro from the string around my finger." Had he been in his office, he would have performed a little spin to illustrate the whimsicality of the image better. "So instead, we'll just make him loveable and useable at the end of our tale rather than the start."

"Pinocchio could still move on his own even when he was made of wood. That was what made him special in the first place."

"You are missing the point of the comparison." Izaya sighed again in a deceptively good-natured way. "But if you want to play this game, I can still beat you- See, without the magic spell placed upon him, Pinocchio was nothing but a wooden puppet. So if we go backwards, like Shizu-chan's brain does, our main character will start out as a real boy, become a magic puppet, and then end up completely normal and perfect, like nature intended."

Namie didn't reply. She didn't really care about the argument, anyhow.

"Your move," Izaya taunted.

"I don't really see why we're talking about fake humans when you only seem concerned with real ones. I only called you to tell you that I sent the documents you asked me to, and they were received securely."

"Oh, don't be such a sore loser."

Namie rolled her eyes. "If he were as nature intended, Pinocchio wouldn't exist. He'd be part of a tree, not a carved figure."

"Like he was never born at all, like he was dead, no, actually, more like what you said- like he never existed! Totally trapped in nothingness! See, I knew you'd get the picture eventually!" In his excitement, Izaya stood up and danced around his hotel room. What does it matter that this wasn't his office? He could prance around if he damned well pleased.

Namie considered asking how Izaya planned to revert Shizuo back into a fetus and then something less, but kept her mouth shut because she knew that her boss might actually have an applicable answer. That would be too much information, even for an ex-executive of a pharmaceutical company like herself.

Izaya stopped jumping on the bed long enough to glance out of his window once again. "Oh, they're here! It was nice to talk to you, but I gotta go now! Bye-bye~!"

The last two sentences were unnecessary because Namie had already hung up on him.

Izaya didn't care. He pocketed his phone and leaned against the window sill with his binoculars poised in front of his eyes.

He looked for all the world like a child playing with an ant farm.

Yes- she was sitting there, as expected, with Mikado an unobtrusive distance away.

Silly boy. He was going to have to learn some better spying tactics if he wanted to be the true boss of the colorless Dollars.

Oh, and look at all of the yellow peeking out from everywhere! It seemed that Masaomi Kida had come to watch from a concealed distance, too- and he'd brought a few of his buddies along to protect his precious, anonymous, and clueless enemy. How sweet. Izaya considered using Mikado Ryugamine as his little yellow plaything's damsel in distress instead of Anri Sonohara, but decided against it. Everything was so far along just how it was already. For now, Izaya's priority was to make sure that Kida saw no need to call his flunkies into battle and reveal his true identity to his best friend.

Sonohara herself was probably not involved in this little episode because she didn't know about it; the two boys surely hadn't wanted to steep her in any more trouble. Too bad. She would have looked so lovely with her Saika skewering Shizuo's heart straight through.

Not that it would be likely to happen- as she was right now, Miss Anri was too in control to let her inner devil come out without dire need. Besides, revealing the real Slasher to both boys at once would also ruin Izaya's plans. The three had to keep their secrets from one another or everything would go awry in a way that the puppet master didn't want.

Although he had to admit, eradicating Shizuo would almost be worth it- his life as an information broker would be so much less annoying.

That was irrelevant now- the queen wasn't there and Izaya needed to keep an eye on two of his other most important pieces- they were in danger of kinging one another, and Izaya did not want that.

Speaking of kings, Shizuo was late. The girl, the Dollar, and the Yellow Scarves had been set in their positions for at least twenty minutes before the principal character came onto the scene.

And to think that Izaya had actually expected for Shizuo to be there first, the bastard.

He gave another peep to the girl. Strange, her hat was a little different from yesterday. It was plausible that she had more than one head accessory, but that one looked like it belonged to someone else. He zoomed in on her face a little more to be sure of her identity.

Oh, yes. This was going to be quite a show.

He whipped out his phone again. "Dearest secretary," he cut off her bored greeting, "do you see the piece on E-5? Move it forward two spaces."

Meanwhile, down in the park, Shizuo moved in front of the girl like he had done the day before. He had figured out what he should say shortly after Masaomi and Mikado's lesson had ended.

_Here it goes_, thought everyone.

"Hey, I'm Shizuo Heiwajima, and I-"

The girl cowered under her hat at his words. Perplexed, Shizuo swallowed his remark. Her demeanor was completely different than last time- he hadn't expected to get a reaction so quick, much less one like this.

"Oy. Are you okay? I don't want to hurt you. I just want to see-"

She unceremoniously thrust her book into the tall man's stomach and turned to hide her face.

From his seat in the corner of the park, Mikado could tell that something was definitely not right with this situation.

Shizuo did, too. "Hey, hold up. If these are your private thoughts, you don't have to show me." He really hated the idea of giving up this golden opportunity to take a peek at the pages, but he didn't want to feel like a jerk for invading a girl's personal belongings when she didn't want him to. He held the book out to return it.

She pushed it back to him.

"Are you sure?" In response, she nodded her ducked head vigorously.

Shizuo looked down at the book, hesitated, and then tore it open with a giddy grin.

From their vantage points, Masaomi and Mikado both spotted Walker sneaking around in the bushes nearby. Mikado just thought he was trying to be a ninja or something and wondered where Erika and Kadota and that other guy were. (Saburo, the "other guy", would have wept bitterly had he known that he'd been overlooked.) Masaomi, however, knew the pair better than his buddy and felt a rising horror in his chest as he realized where he'd recognized the notebook-girl's current black hat from. With a grimace, he leaned against the wall he was crouched behind and prayed for the Otaku, his friend, his Scarves, and himself.

Meanwhile, a half-naked caricature of Saburo Togusa wiped the grin right off Shizuo's face.

"This guy?" He turned the page.

Another seductive shot of the van driver greeted him.

"Huh." He turned to another page.

This time he was really caught by surprise- the doodle-Saburo was completely nude and portrayed with no modesty in his pose.

"I think you like this guy a bit too much. Then again, if he was the only guy willing to volunteer for a study in nudes for you… whatever."

Shizuo was beginning to get a little suspicious after the fifth page of naked Saburo, especially since he had been portrayed with several bottles of milk.

Then he got to the rather suggestive picture of himself with Izaya.

He couldn't even form words.

"Sorry," said a voice, "I just couldn't resist that last one." Erika's mischievous eyes looked up at Shizuo from beneath her cute black hat.

"_YOU-!"_ Shizuo flared up and bent himself over in rage.

"But you saw the pictures of Saburo, didn't you? Yumacchi and I did all of those last night. They're almost as good as the real thing, right?" She grinned and kept on going, oblivious to how Shizuo's fingers were boring holes into the paper tablet. "I thought about doing one with you and Masaomi Kida actually finishing your little role-play yesterday, but I didn't have time."

"KARISAWA!"

"I mean, you and any of those guys would be soooooooooooo cute together! Don't you know how perfect you are for a BL relationship of any kind? I mean, you make even me want to get in on it, you're so versatile!"

"YOU-! YOU-! YOU-! _YOUUUUUUU!" _Shizuo screamed and lightning flashed down all around, illuminating the sky behind him and leaving his silhouette dark and menacing before her.

Larger-than-life, darker than black, and with more presence than any human alive was he- just like a panel from a manga. Karisawa fawned. "A dark angel… no, a demon! Shizu-chan, you're so awesome!"

For the love of-! He wanted to maul her so badly. It was true that he hated hitting girls but he _hated even the idea of him with the flea more and she was asking for it!_ Karisawa was dead! DEAD! DEADER THAN DEAD!

"W-wait! Mr. Shizuo!" Mikado stood up from his seat and managed to squeak out a defense. Masaomi tensed. "You shouldn't hit girls!"

Let the record stand that Shizuo didn't even lay a finger on her- he simply picked up the bench she was sitting on and flung her off of it like a ball from a Lacrosse stick. She flew across the park before knocking poor Walker in the stomach and sending them both spiraling into the street. A loud crash was heard followed by a familiar voice ("MY VAN! WHAT THE HELL, YOU TWO!") and a car alarm.

The park bench was then unceremoniously dropped right back into its original position minus one Erika Karisawa. Shizuo, who had doubled himself over in fury, panted like a mad horse for a few moments and cursed uncontrollably. Suddenly, though, he straightened up and adjusted his sunglasses and acted as if he hadn't just sent a full grown girl sailing off through the air like a baseball.

The Yellow Scarves relaxed; it was over.

Or maybe not- Shizuo turned to face Mikado. "Were you tryin' to talk to me?" The boy's earlier spunk left him and he collapsed back into his seat.

"Uh," he blundered.

"Huh?" Shizuo stalked over and flicked his chin up. "HUH?" Masaomi signaled for his boys to get ready again.

"I-I-I-I-I'm sorry!" Mikado bounced back up in an effort to bow, but couldn't successfully muster the strength to do so.

He'd heard about the Slasher incident in South Ikebukuro Park. You could not fight this man with numbers. Mikado was utterly helpless as the other man's stormy eyes came closer and closer until he felt like his own eyeballs were going to be sucked out by the intensity of his aggressor's.

Mikado shrank to the ground in a staccato fashion, with each shrinkage accompanied by a loud and belligerent _"HUH?"_ from Shizuo's lips. The older man's face followed soon after each exclamation, forcing their bodies into an incomplete triangle. The trembling lad felt his shins press against what felt like two steel beams (the fronts of Shizuo's own legs) as his wobbling knees bent in an attempt to escape the beast's gaze. With one final _"HUH?"_, Shizuo closed the gap between their faces and used his nose to squish the back of Mikado's head into the concrete.

Masaomi was at a loss as to how to save him.

Oblivious to the Yellow audience around him, Shizuo's eyes flashed at Mikado's to emphasize his words. "Look, normally I'd give you a second, but some idiot just showed me way more of that DAMNED FLEA than I've ever wanted to see- not that I'd ever _WANT_ to see _ANY_ of him _EVER_- and I'm _REALLY PISSED RIGHT NOW_!"

Yeah, no kidding.

Mikado's pupils rolled into the back of his head and Shizuo realized that he'd fainted.

Should he just walk away? That seemed like the best option- it's what he normally did whenever people collapsed due to his influence. Then again, there wasn't anyone around to take care of the poor kid until he woke up (from Shizuo's point of view, at least- there were about twenty yellow guardians hidden in the area, including Mikado's most Righteous Vassal.) Such an innocent boy would be mugged and left without a cent before he even thought about regaining his senses. Or the opposite could happen- the Raira boy might sue Shizuo and take everything he had over this event. Either way, he decided to take another look at the situation.

Yep, the boy was out cold. No doubt about it. Shizuo dragged a hand over his face, into his hair, and down the back of his neck. He really didn't want to have to deal with the little brat. What had the Raira kid been trying to say to him, anyway? Had he known where the notebook had gone? Wait, was this the kid from yesterday? No way! What in the world had he been hanging around here for?

Was he there to make fun of Shizuo? Had he been in on Karisawa's prank? No, probably not. In fact, it was quite possible that he had been trying to warn Shizuo that he was having a prank played on him.

What did it matter? Thinking about the situation again just made Shizuo mad, _mad_, _**mad**_, _**mad**_, _**MAD**_.

HE WAS SO ANGRY RIGHT NOW! He lifted his head up to the sky and screamed his frustration.

Taking Shizuo's hollering as his cue, Masaomi thrust himself from behind the wall and into plain sight. Like his friend, Masaomi knew that numbers could not overtake the god of destruction, but he was desperate enough to try. All he had to do was raise his right hand and clench it into a fist to make his Yellow Scarves attack Shizuo. His arm started to rise into the air.

At the same time, so did Mikado's body. Shizuo had hoisted the boy up into his arms and started to walk out of the park with him, right towards Masaomi.

The blonde kid was stunned and just froze with his hand up in the blue sky. Shizuo walked past him without a second glance.

Masaomi needed to send his boys after him.

He needed to save his friend.

But he couldn't, because he was rooted to the spot.

No, he wouldn't, because he didn't want all of his Yellow Scarves friends to find their trademark stained red. At least, that's what he tried to tell himself- he did not want to admit that he was so terrified that he couldn't risk danger even to save his very best friend.

Shizuo Heiwajima was completely oblivious to Masaomi's inner turmoil and accidentally knocked the young blonde's hand out of the air as he was passing by. "Sorry," he barked in a way that was anything but.

After the tall man had left, the yellow scarves came up to their leader. "Boss? Are you okay?"

Shit, Kida had looked weak in front of his men. There was nothing to be done about that now. Mikado was gone. "I'm fine," he told them, "and I don't think he is going to hurt my friend. Actually, I'll go after him myself and make sure. You guys don't worry about this. I shouldn't have brought you along anyways."

"You sure?" One asked.

"Yeah. I can't afford you guys getting pounded by that monster. If I just watch to make sure nothing happens, it'll be fine. And even if worse comes to worst, I can nab him easier if it's only me."

These particular scarves were rather loyal and weren't so sure that Kida should go alone.

"I need you guys to be ready when we can do something we might be able to handle. I'm not so stupid to just pit us all against Shizuo Heiwajima without nukes or something."

"But-"

Kida cut them off. "Don't disobey me," he commanded as he ran off.

The scarves looked at each other. "What was his friend thinking, getting involved with Shizuo?"

"Beats me," said a girly voice, "But Saburo has been knocked out of my OTP- I'm all for Mikado and Shizu-chan! It's like _DNAngel_, no, _Kuroshitsuji_- Mikado is _such_ a shota and Shizu-chan is like the perfect Sebastian!" Erika had returned from her flying trip and butted into the conversation. She put her hands on her cheeks and squealed in excitement. "EEEEK! I knew his voice sounded familiar! It's perfect! It's so perfect!"

Walker was not far behind her. "A Tranquil Island wants an Emperor to watch over?" He tried.

"I was thinking more like, 'The Emperor mercilessly rules over his Tranquil Island from atop the Dragon's Peak', but you're getting there, Yumacchi!" She squeezed his arm. "I'll make you into one of us yet."

"I don't think I've made it that far down Otome Road." He put his hand on his chin. "But isn't Sebastian usually the seme? I mean, the scenario you just made from their names makes him all uke."

To that, Erica winked. "Oh, but my dear Yumacchi, that depends on what you like. After all, Ciel is the one that orders Sebastian around."

"Whoa, way to twist canon around to suit your fantasies!"

"I'm not twisting anything! It's true!" Erika pouted. "But anyway, we'll never find out who's top and who's bottom for sure unless we follow them!"

The boys in yellow were so lost. "Are you guys saying you're gonna go follow our boss?"

Walker and Erica looked up from their discussion for a moment. "Kida's back in the Yellow Scarves?"

"Yeah," the gangsters said. "He's still our boss. And this is still our turf. We aren't going to let the Dollars take it.

The Otaku looked at each other. This was a serious matter, especially if Kida decided to wage full-out war on the colorless gang. It would be chaos; gang members would be smashing each other's faces in on the street. To find the Dollars, Kida would instigate an inquisition upon the entire city, except nobody's answers would matter-the scarves would have all their information beforehand from one man.

Izaya Orihara. But would Kida really fall back under the man's influence?

It was quite plausible. Masaomi Kida was not infallible; he could be swayed. He could also be blinded by love. If Saki Mikajima was involved, Kida could easily be persuaded to let Izaya pull the wool over his eyes. Nobody would be safe- if Izaya had Kida where it hurt, he could persecute anyone and everyone he wanted to. Izaya Orihara could, conceivably, say who lived and who died whether they were Dollars or not.

Really, he always did have that power, but it usually wasn't exercised in such a direct way.

Erica hunkered down. "We've got to do something."

Walker followed suit. "Someone's got to defend justice in the dark underbelly of the city."

In tandem, both of them whipped their faces around to the Yellow Scarves.

"Are you going to accept your destiny?" Challenged Walker.

"You mean, you want us to follow them?"

The dynamic duo deadpanned.

Finally, one scarf stepped forward. "Yeah, I wanna help boss."

In response, Walker thrust his hand up in the air and took off. "Alright! Let's go!"

"Defenders of Ikebukuro true love!" To display her enthusiasm, she began to make rocket noises and zoom out of the park in a zigzag pattern that perfectly complemented her male counterpart's.

The scarves looked at one another. "Um, what?"

I dunno, dude, let's just go with it. If this is a bust, we'll bail." They discussed it a bit more before they all came to a consensus to follow the eccentric pair.

From above, Izaya just smiled. What fun these humans were! Even Shizuo's surprises were admittedly delightful today- especially since they were nothing compared to the one Mikado was going to get when he woke up in the arms of none other than Ikebukuro's Strongest! Giddily, he whipped out his phone to tell Namie to move a few more pieces as he ran to follow the parade.

And it could have been a parade for all the stares Shizuo was attracting. He wasn't just getting them from Kida, Erika, Walker, and the scarves, but from the town itself- it was quite a sight to see the hurricane of emotion tote around a student like they were the Frankenstein monster and his bride. Rumors were already flying and the pair hadn't even gone a whole block yet! Shizuo growled into a bystander's cell phone camera (effectively discouraging others blatantly photographing him) and tried his best to ignore the attention.

But where was he going? The hospital? The police station? Russia Sushi? He certainly couldn't take this kid to his house. Well, he could, but that would get really messy. The hospital was the best idea, but he really didn't want to deal with going there. He'd lose his temper at the complications involved. Wait- there was a place he could go and get this kid medical help (if he needed it) and not have to deal with hospital personnel and insurance plans and testy nurses and weird assumptions and medical bills that took forever to file. It was a little longer of a walk, but this kid didn't seem to be having any serious physical trauma.

He'd still have to pay for services if he went to Shinra and Celty's, but that wasn't a big issue. Of course, first he had to be allowed in- it hadn't been that long ago since he'd exploded in their apartment and they might not want him in around soon. But Shizuo could probably hold on to his cool in this situation; if he had a patient to distract him, the risk of Shinra provoking Shizuo lessened considerably and that was a huge factor as to whether the blonde could come in or not. This was getting tricky. Maybe the hospital would actually be the easier option?

Ah, screw it- Raira boy needed help and he would just ask his friends first. If they said no, then he'd just go deal with the hospital. He did his best to tune out the gawking pedestrians and focus on where he was going.

Suddenly, the girl with the notebook and the hat passed through his line of sight and stopped at a crosswalk. She was in green today, and he was pretty sure that this one was not another impostor. Now was his chance. He pushed through the crowd as best he could without using Mikado as a battering ram (who that would have hurt more, the boy or the crowd, we can only guess) and called out to her.

"Oi!"

She didn't react, just like yesterday. He tried again anyway.

"_Oi!"_ He was closer now.

She looked around. Had she heard him? He called out a third time, much louder than necessary, and the whole crowd on the street turned to look at him (if they hadn't been staring already.) Once they saw the voice's source, the boy in its owner's arms, and the notorious reputation via the uniform on his body, they scurried off to get away from whatever was going on. They were not going to get involved with Shizuo Heiwajima if they could help it.

The girl in the hat with the sketchbook, however, had not run. She was indeed looking puzzled as to why the sidewalk had cleared out, but she hadn't yet spotted Shizuo. He wasn't very far away from her by the time she laid eyes on him.

Of course, her eyes had actually found Mikado first, but Shizuo was discovered soon enough. She still didn't run, though; she just gripped her bag with the book in it a little tighter and gave a nervous nod.

The girl had acknowledged him! Wait, did this mean she really had been ignoring him the previous day? Or was it actually Karisawa again in disguise? Oh, what did it matter! He had gotten her attention and that was the important thing.

Now what?

"Um," he began, "I have seen you around with that book," he gestured to it with his head.

She perplexedly looked down in the general direction he had cast his face. Obviously, his message was lost because his comment resulted in her examining her feet.

Had she not heard him? "I, uh, don't mean your shoes." He made a motion to point to the notebook, but then remembered the kid occupying his hands. Damn, asking her now was pointless anyway! This was so aggravating! He entertained the thought of throwing Mikado into the back of the closest truck and being done with it.

SHIT! He was getting more frustrated by the second. He'd best just leave. "I'll see you later. I have something I gotta do," he grumbled as he stormed off.

The girl blinked in an insipid fashion before glancing at her bag like she expected it to explain what had just happened. She couldn't stand around forever, though. The crowds flooded back in and she was pulled with the current.

Upstream, Shizuo was just fuming. His temper cinched it- he was in too foul of a mood now to deal with people he didn't know, so if Shinra and Celty didn't take care of the dumbass Raira brat, the kid would wake up on the floor in Shizuo's apartment.

Or wherever Shizuo lost his temper next and decided to toss him. Whichever they got to first.

Somehow, though, Shizuo made it to the lovely apartment of the headless rider and her man-slave without throwing his hitchhiker to the wayside. He knocked on the door with the side of his foot.

Shinra came to answer. To his credit, he looked like he was going to actually greet his friend, but his intentions changed when he saw Mikado. He turned to yell over his shoulder.

"Shizuo's finally gone and done it! He's killed someone and wants us to help hide the body!"

"HE JUST FAINTED! HE ISN'T DEAD!" Mikado's body was lifted into a throwing position.

Lucky for the Dollars boss, Celty got there fast enough to break the tension. [He will be if you both don't calm down!]She persuaded Shizuo to not send the poor Raira boy through Shinra's head. [This boy is Mikado Ryugamine. I know him- let's help.]

The pesky doctor sighed. "Okay, go put him on the couch in the living room and I'll take a look at him."

Shizuo did. And then he realized that his tagalong was awake.

"Hey!" Shizuo said, more in surprise than anything else. Mikado promptly went right back into unconsciousness.

"_Dammit_, kid, don't just faint whenever you want to!" He huffed and puffed and blew off some steam with a stream of choice words. Finally, he calmed down enough to sit down at the kitchen table and watch Shinra check the kid for any injuries. This day had been awful and it wasn't even over.

"He's fine," Shinra reported. "The poor guy's just a bit shaken up."

Shizuo grunted and absentmindedly fished around for a cigarette, even though he knew he couldn't smoke in the apartment. "Look, I'm really _pissed_ right now. I'll explain everything later, when I've calmed down. I'll also pay you," he pointed at Shinra, "but for now just watch the brat."

Celty made her beau refrain from making a stupid remark to set their mutual friend off. Then she turned to Shizuo. [Okay. Do you need me to come?]

Shizuo looked like he wanted her to, but just waved her PDA message off. "No, just worry about him." He brusquely walked out the door and closed it behind him. Shinra and Celty just looked at one another.

A few moments later, Mikado shot up from the couch. "Is he gone yet?"

[Yes,] Celty said. [How long were you awake?]

"Oh, hi, Celty. I, uh, was awake since, uh, since we left the park. I was playing dead just now."

"Crafty kid," Shinra commented.

"W-well, it was pretty cowardly, but…I just didn't want to die today."

Celty nodded. [Actually, that was a pretty smart decision. I don't blame you.] She typed a bit more. [But what happened? Why did you get into a situation where you fainted? Did Shizuo do something? Was it in the park?]

"Oh, right. I'll explain that-"

A loud crash sounded outside and the trio looked out the window to find that a streetlamp had mysteriously uprooted itself and landed in the road. Shizuo was present (of course), but what was surprising was the person he'd aimed for. It couldn't be Izaya- blonde hair began to arise from the clouds of dust.

"Masaomi?" Mikado gaped.

[Oh, no, you two stay here. I'll stop them.]

Frantic, Celty dashed out of the room, leaving the two boys alone.

Shinra turned to his guest. "Friend of yours? I'm Shinra, by the way."

"Oh, I'm Mikado. Yeah, I know the guy down there, but why would he get into this fight?" The teenaged boy shook his head. "I need to go down there and help!"

Shinra held out a hand to stop him. "Don't. You'll only complicate matters. Besides, they'll come back."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

"Oh. Okay." Mikado looked down at the chaos outside. "Should I pretend to faint again when they do?"

* * *

><p>This chapter is so long that I should have cut it into pieces. Oh, well.<p>

For those of you wondering, Sebastian Michaelis, the titular "Kuroshitsuji" of Kuroshitsuji, is voiced by Daisuke Ono. Guess who does Shizuo Heiwajima's Japanese voice? Daisuke Ono- hence Erika's mention of Shizuo's vocals being familiar. (BY THE WAY HER RINGTONE IN THE ANIME IS OF DAISUKE ONO'S VOICE FROM KUROSHITSUJI, TOO- I'M SO MAKING A GAG OF IT LATER!) Also, Otome Road is a place in Ikebukuro that sells a lot of, like, Doujinshi and stuff aimed at girls like Erika.

It might also behoove me to warn you that I'm going to be periodically updating older chapters as I look over them and see atrocious typos and un-purposeful word repeatage. Be aware. XD

Thank you so much for reading... and reviewing!


	8. Absolutely Wrong

**_Warning:_**_ Terrible Engrish! Ha ha!_

* * *

><p><em>Part Eight: Absolutely Wrong<em>

"You don't need the umbrella today."

Odd, since the weather forecast had been saying for days that it was going to storm.

"Are you sure?" She asked, still reaching for its handle.

"Why would I tell you not to bring it if you needed it? If you get wet, I get wet. And trust me- I do not want to get wet.

This was true; Canson had a terrible aversion to water- he whined bitterly whenever so much as a drop got on him. There was good reason, though. When he really got soaked, it took ages for him to dry even with Chi working at full power to speed up the process.

If Canson didn't think it would rain, then it wouldn't.

"If you say so. Sorry, Samsonite." She changed her outstretched fingers into a wave before retracting them into her palm and laying them by her side. "I guess I don't need galoshes either, huh?" She sat down and began to remove her boots.

Canson flapped around a little on the table while he waited for his owner to finish changing out of her rain boots and into some other shoes. "What are we doing today? Are you going to work first?"

"Yeah. They want me to organize some stuff that they just got in and proofread some business documents."

"Ugh. Can we skip out? I do not want to deal with that annoying desk. It's such a hard ass."

"Mahogany isn't so bad."

"Yeah, it is. It's elitist and a snob. I was a tree once, too, y'know, but that doesn't mean that I have to look down on the people who processed me. How do you not just take an axe and chop the jerk in half? It's so mean to you."

"Mahogany isn't mine to do that to. And it is being nice enough to let me use it, even though it doesn't like me."

Canson's edges indignantly settled. "'Nice' my binding."

"If you are really going to complain about it, you can stay here." She finished putting on her shoes and stood back up.

"Fine."

She put her hand on the door.

"Wait!" Canson called back. "Please take me with you. I'll get over it."

Helen, the girl at the door, smiled and turned around. "Okay, okay. But you'll have to ride in Bag." Canson groaned.

Over on the couch, "Bag" ruffled itself up. "I am not being toted around by you, especially not with that ratty sketchpad tugging on my fibers."

"Hey, take a look at yourself if you think I'm ratty," Canson spat.

"I am not ratty. I am eco-friendly, and that is totally different. I'm trendy." The bag turned its attention to its owner. "And don't call me 'bag'- that is a terrible name. If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times- call me _Porte-Monnaie_."

"You aren't even French."

Helen tried to interject into the conversation between her book and her bag, but to no avail. Finally, she unceremoniously packed them both together and went for the door.

"I don't appreciate being ignored." she said. "And we've wasted enough time."

The truth was that Helen could talk to inanimate objects. Actually, that wasn't quite correct. Anyone can talk to books, bags, and umbrellas, but not everyone can get a reply.

The unique thing about Helen was that she could elicit a response and actually understand it.

Not everything spoke, though. Many spirits looked down on the humans that could hear them and shunned them. Some simply couldn't communicate because they were too young to articulate or they were too stupid because they had been broken apart too many times- only a fraction of themselves was left in their new form. For example, rocks eroded into grains of sand over time, and that grain was used with grains of other rocks to make glass. None of the many spirits' pieces embodied in the glass overpower another, so the glass remained silent until, after many years, the collective minds in the glass conformed to become one. The rate of this varied greatly depending on conditions and the mettle of each part in the whole.

On the same token, the oldest and most powerful spirits- the ones that had the best chance of dominating an object's persona- came from the natural world rather than the manmade one. So, objects made directly from one tree or one stone are more likely to possess the ability to communicate with the few gifted people in this world.

In fact, the phenomenon of Mother Nature speaking to a high volume of mortals in Japan was most likely the basis of Shinto.

Such people are not exclusive to the island country, though. Helen Aricelly, as her name suggests, is a non-Japanese example. She hadn't even been in Ikebukuro for more than about two months- she had been hired to look over various business agreements to be sent to English-speaking countries, but the job really just consisted of her being a secretary for all the calls her company received that were in her language. Occasionally, she would teach a few of the salarymen that came her way some more advanced pronunciation and turns of phrase, but that rarely happened because it was so hard to talk to her.

Was she callous and rude? No, not really. Did she smell bad? Nobody had said anything. Did she look scary? No, but sometimes she wished that she did to discourage the strange people in the park from coming near her.

The issue with Helen is rather ironic- she had been hired for translating purposes even though she didn't speak Japanese. As you can probably imagine, life in Ikebukuro had been tricky since she couldn't communicate. It could get a little lonely, too.

But it never got too bad- Helen was very good at making friends with the world around her, and they were the main reason that she was able to understand what little she did about this city's dialect. Some of the native flora of the concrete jungle was rather chatty and was kind enough to translate a few on-location conversations to her, or they would inform Canson if they didn't deem Helen worth speaking to. Her faithful friend would then pass along the message.

Then, it and Bag would then try to help Helen riddle out a reply. Things didn't always go smoothly, but the three of them could usually muddle through a conversation.

It had gotten very complicated yesterday, though.

Helen really liked Higashi-Ikebukuro Central Park and she and Canson often went on little field trips there, usually after her work. She would sit and observe while Canson narrated (or bickered with Bag- the two of them were insatiable chatterers) until one of them would get bored.

"Draw me a giraffe with three heads," Canson would ask.

"Oh, how ghastly!" Bag would say. "It will suit those trashy pages perfectly. But I think you shouldn't lower your standards to suit this piece of garbage. Draw a ballroom scene."

Helen would sometimes listen to their suggestions, but she usually just did whatever she wanted. Canson would be happy with it, anyway, and Bag would get distracted by something else it found distasteful.

But one day some boy danced up to her to get her attention. She was taken aback. Luckily, her friends assured her that he meant no harm- he was just flirting with her. His two human friends also gave her solace in that they were just goofing off. She ended up miming to them that she didn't speak the language, let them see inside Canson (who shamelessly made inappropriate jokes about being violated- even though she didn't understand Japanese, she could tell that the blonde one had obvious similarities to her sketch buddy) , and politely waved goodbye when they left.

Everything else had been normal, even Bag's notorious criticism of the blonde man who always sat across from them. "Look at him, sulking like that. Doesn't he have something more productive to do than look gloomy and smoke?"

Helen whispered in reply. "He doesn't usually sulk. Besides, this is probably when he has his break."

"Hmph," Bag's upper flap fluttered in the breeze.

Canson's pages fluttered a little in the wind, as well. "Hey, Helen," he said, "I know I've told you this before, but the objects in this area are scared of that guy."

"Are you sure they aren't simply repulsed?" Bag shot back.

"Yeah, I am, Raggedy Baggedy, so shut up and listen. I'm trying to warn our gal here. Anyway, Helen, they say-" it paused and Helen suspected that the park was telling it something else. "He-" Canson stopped again. The notebook seemed a little hesitant to say anything.

Bag interjected. "The bench says he's crazy. If he comes over and starts talking, ignore him."

Helen noticed Canson and Bag giving each other some kind of look (as much as a bag and notebook could, anyway) but decided to follow their advice. Why shouldn't she do as they said? If something happened to her, they would be lost forever as unclaimed garbage. None of them wanted that.

Suddenly, the cobblestones below her feet quaked. "He's coming!" they chorused.

Mr. Bartender had abandoned his usual spot and his cigarette and had started the journey across the park.

"Just don't say anything," bossed Bag.

"Act natural," advised Canson.

So she did. She acted how she had always imagined Mahogany would act towards her if it were human. In fact, it hadn't been hard at all- she was so accustomed to how the world around her continued like she wasn't there that mimicking the effect was a piece of cake.

It had worked perfectly. The man had gotten frustrated and walked away.

"We should go," Canson had commanded afterwards. Strange, that it would be so serious. Helen had still obeyed, though.

She even obeyed when they told her not to visit the park again the next day. The man was not one to be avoided, however- he called to her on the street the next day, and this time with a high school aged boy in his arms.

Helen responded without thinking- how was she to know that the person yelling was the crazy man in the weskit?

"DAMN!" Canson began to shout when it realized who it was. "We've been spotted! Run, Helen, run!"

Bag gave different advice- "No! Do not bolt before a wild animal- it will charge you for certain! Stay calm and see what he wants. And for heavens' sake, Canson, shut up!"

The book was not consoled so easily. It and the bag it was in began to fight and left Helen all on her own.

As we are well aware, an enraged Shizuo did not look like someone you wanted to get involved with, especially with Mikado in his arms. However, he didn't seem all that crazy or dangerous to Helen- although it may have helped that she didn't know the context of Mikado's position.

She also didn't comprehend the meaning of anything he said, even when he thrust his head downwards to gesture.

Her shoes? No- his reaction told her she'd gotten it wrong. He said something else and then walked off with the boy still in his arms.

"He's gone now, you two. What was that about? Were either of you listening to the rest of the city?"

"No," Bag admitted. "I was busy quieting _this_."

"Helen, I am soooooo sorry, I just- I just get scared, see, I got this image of a bull elephant ramming down a tree when I saw him, and I just- I just!"

Bag was nonplussed. "How is that scary to you?"

"I'm PAPER. I'm MADE of trees!"

"Not baobabs."

"The kind of tree isn't important! That's like saying that a Hispanic guy isn't terrified when he sees an Asian guy gored by a wild beast."

Helen let their conversation's meaning fade out of her ears and felt herself getting lost in the crowd with it. Around her, the crowd murmured and whispered in tandem with the concrete and her own items and she just let herself be completely unbound by anything, just peacefully drifting in the sea of faces.

Suddenly, she felt someone grab her hand and drag her backwards. She was torn from her free floating and was led about half a block before she could get her bearings and turn her body around to see who was leading her.

It took a few more moments to focus on the figure that was currently grasping her hand, and even then she couldn't get much more than a flash of black, either a shirt or a jacket.

Whatever it was, it was laughing maniacally. Helen struggled against its wearer.

"Please let me go!"

It didn't work. She began to call for aid in English, but it did little good.

"Helen, sweetheart, what is going on?" Canson asked. Nice of him to finally notice.

"I believe, my dear piece of pulpy paper, that we are about to endure watching Helen go through a particularly nasty experience," Bag groaned.

"Honey, hold on- I'll talk to the guy's pants. Maybe we can finagle a way outta this."

Throughout the whole exchange, Helen had valiantly been trying to hold her ground. Finally, she managed to hold firm and slow down to a skid, but her kidnapper had been planning her resistance.

He let go at the optimum moment to send her into someone else's hoodie.

White. This cloth was white versus the other man's black. Helen immediately decided she liked this article of clothing better, especially since it wasn't spouting crazed, stupid laughter like a backed-up fountain that could only let out awkward bursts versus a steady stream.

"Sor-ry," the hoodie said. It wasn't a very old soul- its speech was slow and deliberate, like it really had to think about its words. "Need help," it added.

A groan erupted from its wearer as he stood up and offered her a hand. He babbled something in Japanese and she looked up at his face. It was the blonde boy from yesterday!

"Mika-doh in tubble," the hoodie managed. "Yoo have a book dat Blonde smoker want."

"I think dumb and fashionable is telling the truth," said Canson.

"I are not dum," said the hoodie. "I just yung."

Helen smiled and took the boy's hand, but kept her attention on the hoodie. "Thank you. I don't think you are dumb at all. How can I help you?"

The boy was giving Helen a funny look and she realized that she was not only spouting English, but she was directing it to his neck. Embarrassed, she moved her eyes to his face (not that big of a move- she towered above him) and thanked him in clumsy Japanese. She also managed what basically meant, "You, help?" and cocked her head to the side.

Hoodie boy smiled and began to explain some complex scenario. Helen just tuned him out and listened to his namesake instead.

"Thuh scary smoker-man have friend, Mika-doh. Want get Mika-doh away from thuh scary smoker. Smoker-man want book yoo hav. Need yoo follah. O-kie? Unnerstand?"

They both seemed very desperate. Helen nodded to show she understood the clothes on his back, but the boy mistook that as an assent to let him lead her. He sighed in relief, grabbed her hand, and started to pull her along like the first stranger had done. However, this time both Helen and her companions had confidence that this snatch had meant no harm.

"Sor-ry. Hafta get there fast."

Helen understood the hurry, but was not eager to see the tall man who had called her out earlier. Everything had told her he was bad.

But who was "Mika-doh"? Was that the boy he had been carrying? What was the man going to do to him? Fervently, she hoped that she could help, but she also prayed that she would come out of this alright. Bag voiced the same thought and Canson just cowered within its binding.

They finally stopped on a street corner and their leader looked around wildly before releasing a loud shout. Helen needed no translation for his cursing.

With another yell and moan, hoodie boy slid his hand over his face.

"Lost. Can-not find smoker-man," the hoodie complained. "Too slow!"

Canson was on him. "Yeah, like you, buddy boy."

"He-ey! Paper meen."

"Canson!" Hissed Helen.

"Your conduct is disgraceful, I agree. But I can't say I'm surprised. The rag may be simple, but we owe it gratitude for speaking with Helen." Helen scolded Bag as well, but the damage had been done.

"I not rag!"

"Of course you aren't. My bag is just jealous."

Bag was offended. "Jealous? Of _that_? The flirtatious boy would look better if he tore out Canson's pages and taped them to himself!" With a quick chastising glance, Helen beat her bag against a nearby trashcan.

As expected, the boy hadn't noticed the assaults on his fashion sense. Instead, he had focused his attention on a figure in black and white skulking out the door.

"Where Mika-doh?" the hoodie questioned. Its owner asked nearly the same thing and made his way to the man in the weskit.

Masaomi Kida, the boy in the hoodie, had a savior complex. At least, he had a developing one- and Izaya Orihara was currently nurturing it. However, it seemed that Izaya had a little help- today's damsel in distress scenario with Mikado also contributed to Masaomi's current trend of bad choices; he wanted to prove to himself that he could stand up to danger and protect the ones he loved no matter the risk. So, in Masaomi's mind, saving Mikado was also like saving Saki- and hopefully like saving himself from his cowardice. In reality, it was just another strategy to put himself into harm's way.

Helen, clueless to all of that and more, looked on as Masaomi Kida approached Shizuo Heiwajima.

"Yo!" Masaomi knew better than to start off with a screaming fit- although that's what he wanted to do.

Shizuo tried to ignore him.

"Hey, I'm trying to start a conversation with you, man! Be a pal, c'mon!"

"I'm NOT your PAL." Shizuo yanked out a cigarette and turned away.

Masaomi forged onwards. "Look, man, I just wanted to know how your sketchbook endeavor went. You can tell me- I'm a bro." Of course, Masaomi already knew how it went- he was planning to use Helen as bait to coax Shizuo into returning his friend without smashing anyone or anything to bits.

With the attitude of a panther, Shizuo whirled around. "Stop asking about what isn't your business! Wait," he looked at Masaomi another moment, "how do you know about that?" Shizuo couldn't quite place the blonde in his agitated mind. "WERE YOU SPYING ON ME?"

Masaomi was reckless, but he wasn't stupid- and he knew when he was about to be thrown twenty feet into the air. Quick as a flash, he backed off and put some distance between himself and the other blonde. "Nah, man, nah! It's me! Your charismatic teacher, Masaomi Kida- the love master!"

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL YOU ARE-" Shizuo shuffled forward under the dark clouds of his own wrath and had almost grabbed Masaomi by the front of his hoodie when he spotted Erika and Walker in the crowd. Startled, he looked back at the flirtatious boy.

_The flirtatious boy_. Shizuo _did_ know him. This blonde kid had made him do that stupid role-playing thing with that other kid who he'd just left with Celty and Shinra. And Karisawa had been lying in wait for him the next day, and she was here, like his cohort. Maybe he had been set up after all.

Hurt flooded Shizuo's heart and face and Masaomi wondered why the Fortissimo had gone quiet all of a sudden. Seconds later, the quiet became menacing and Shizuo's upset turned into rage and congregated like the clouds above. His hand struck out like lightning, sucking Masaomi into the center of the storm.

Shizuo hurled the Raira punk across the street and immediately went for the nearest throwable object. With a roar, he ripped up a parking meter and chucked it in Masaomi's general direction. Luckily, the blow was not fatal.

In fact, Shizuo had never intended to kill Masaomi. He was upset, but it was a little different than his usual wrath- Masaomi Kida had invoked more from Ikebukuro's Strongest than simple anger. He had managed to upset Shizuo on a far deeper level, and he had, from Shizuo's point of view, done it in a way that would have made that DAMNED flea proud.

Still, Masaomi ranked higher than Izaya in Shizuo's mind, so the youngster wouldn't pay the ultimate price. Unfortunately, that meant that the city was going to foot the bill for the reckless provocation of the Fighting Doll instead.

Shizuo ignored Masaomi and overturned a newsstand, sending it into a collision with an oncoming car. Then he punched a traffic light like a punching bag several times and until it crumbled and fell down, taking the telephone wires with it and crushing several other vehicles that were scrambling to get away from the scene. He punched away a trashcan and went for a snack machine. A chorus of screams and honks and deploying airbags sounded in the streets and Shizuo would have continued his onslaught upon the city had a thick black shadow not coated absolutely everything around him.

He recognized Celty's presence and stopped destroying in favor of screaming to the sky, pacing back and forth on the small space that wasn't coated in ebony like a beast in a cage.

Celty kept the world encased in darkness for a moment longer until her friend stopped and sat on a nearby curb. Finally, she released Ikebukuro and its citizens fled from the immediate area. Only Masaomi, Helen, and a few other brave souls remained after the dark curtain had been lifted. Erika and Walker left as well, but only after Celty gave them a harsh, eyeless stare.

In fact, the Headless Rider didn't say anything. She just walked over to her friend and sat by him. They stayed like that for a long time.

Meanwhile, Helen had gone to hoodie-boy's aid. Neither had noticed Celty's shadow trick through the smoke Shizuo's handiwork had stirred. Besides, Masaomi had taken priority- his arm was bleeding and his leg was moving in a crooked fashion. It was probably broken.

"Canson, Bag, where is the hospital?" She asked, not caring if the blonde invalid heard her or not.

"We don't know this town any better than you do," Bag snapped.

"Can you ask around?"

Canson, who was visibly shaking, dashed her hopes. "The intact objects here are stationary. They've never left the area since they got here. So they don't know and the cars aren't speaking."

"I donut kno ei-ther. Sor-ry." The hoodie was tearful, both in terms of damage and attitude. "Masao-mi gunna trow me away."

"About time," sniffed Bag.

Helen shouted at her and returned her attention to the hoodie. "Don't worry- if he does, I will take you in and make you into something else. How does that sound?"

"Puh-puh-please," it managed.

By glad happenstance, Helen's soothing tone made Masaomi believe that she was trying to assure him rather than his clothes, so he didn't think anything of her one-sided conversation. She gently set him down against some steady rubble and pulled Canson out of Bag. Then she snagged a pencil and scrawled the shape of a cross on one of its blank pages and showed it to Masaomi.

Masaomi sighed and pointed in a general direction with his good arm and wiggled it around. "Rongu way ova deru." He had calmed down enough to attempt some simple English, but he knew that he had to get Helen out of danger. Her presence wasn't going to help him retrieve Mikado after all. "Go."

Helen, however, not only felt obligated to help him, but she had promised to look after his hoodie. She couldn't afford to leave it. With a thud, she closed Canson and cautiously approached the Headless Rider, ignoring the book, Masaomi, and Bag's shouts of protest.

As she got closer to the sidewalk, she noticed that neither of the people had said a word. In compensation, the bowtie was apologizing heavily (probably to all the other objects in the area) and the biker's yellow helmet was trying to comfort it. Helen ignored the conversation and beckoned to the figure in black.

Celty, unaware of Helen's involvement in the current fiasco, didn't even try to hide her presence from Shizuo. Instead, she stood up and called the girl over and right into his line of sight.

Helen obeyed after much hesitation. She added the character for hospital to the center of her blocky cross and displayed it, then pointed to Masaomi.

Celty typed something back in Japanese, to which Helen shook her head and wrote "ENGLISH" on Canson. In reply, Celty nodded and motioned for the sketchpad.

When she got it and the pencil, she scrawled out something and showed it to Helen.

[Oh, I understand. My PDA is set for Japanese and I do not know how to change it. Let me calm down my friend and I'll take you to a closer doctor.] She whipped out her PDA and typed a message to Shizuo.

However, Shizuo's eyes were not on his friend's handheld. Instead they were boring holes into the sketchpad in Helen's hands. In his, the cigarette crumpled.

"YOU WERE MAKING FUN OF ME, TOO? WERE YOU JUST SCREWING WITH ME? HUH?" He stood up and relapsed into fury. Celty grabbed his arm and tried to calm him, but he shrugged her off.

Only God, Bag, Canson, the helmet, the bowtie, and Helen herself knew how she managed to hold his gaze and not burst aflame from the sheer hellfire held within. In fact, they all worked in tandem to keep Helen from falling apart and running away right then- the helmet warned her to stay calm when she stood, Bag commanded her to hold her ground, Canson failed to scream otherwise, the bowtie assured her of what its wearer wanted, and God (for those who believe in such things) gave her the courage and wits to heed them. She bravely began to whimper in Shizuo's face.

His breath smelled like cigarettes, and it made the idea of him breathing fire all the more vivid and real. He roared like a dragon from Hell and Helen started to cry.

She muttered that it was going to be okay, both in Japanese and English. The words were meant for herself but they proved to be effective on Shizuo as well.

It was going to be okay. I am alright. All is well. Any of these phrases could be what the girl meant when translated.

Confused, Shizuo paused in his thunderous assault as he felt his mind clear a little, like the words were a magic spell.

Nobody had died. Celty was here. He wasn't hurt, and neither was this girl. Shizuo felt his anger lessen considerably. In fact, he was even beginning to realize that the only person who had actively played a trick on him was Karisawa, not this girl or Masaomi or Mikado.

He wasn't completely calm, but he was no longer berserk. He moved his face away from Helen and straightened himself out.

Celty watched as the two regarded one another.

"He just wants to see the sketchpad, and all this started to happen, and we thought- oh, I'm so sorry! We don't want to hurt anything!" The bowtie wilted a little more. "He just gets so mad! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please don't run away!" Helen did not, especially since the man wasn't so angry. Canson started to tremble.

"Don't let him have me," it cried. "Please. Run. I don't want to be torn apart."

"Coward," spat Bag.

Helen stopped sniveling and just stared at Shizuo, who stared back.

"Don't let him hurt me! Dear God, Helen, don't trust him! He's a monster! A monster!"

Sincerity. Assurance. Anger. Hurt. Honesty. Loyalty. More anger. Strength. Fear. Kindness. That's what Helen saw in Shizuo's human eyes.

Canson pleaded some more, but she couldn't hear him anymore. Helen, who valued and weighed people and objects as the same, had made her decision about this angry young man.

She said nothing, but held Canson out to Shizuo.

He reached out his hand.

Canson screamed.

And the rain came down.

* * *

><p>Are my allusions to Shizuo and the weather getting too obvious? Maybe? Ha ha. I'm sad I couldn't fit some Erika and Walker goodness into this chapter.<p>

Anyway, about Helen- I have this THING for writing about inanimate objects rather than people- it's a common theme in even the original stuff I write, and if I ever write real stories, the heroine or hero'd probably be very similar to Helen in terms of this little quirk. So I do claim her and Canson and company, though Durarara! isn't mine.

Also, lots of people find writing in vernacular and with accents and in, erm, "unintelligent" speak like Kida's hoodie to be annoying, but I hope it makes sense in this story.

Thank you! Please read and review- it can really help me improve and know the kind of thing you guys want to see!


	9. Use and Abuse

_Part Nine: Use and Abuse_

Shizuo's fingers barely brushed Canson's cover before he felt a succession of raindrops coat his head and shoulders and looked up. Helen, also targeted by the rain, feared for the condition of her paper in such a moist environment and quickly snatched her drawing pad away from Shizuo, holding it close to her to keep it dry.

"I thought you were sure that it wasn't going to rain today," Celty heard her whisper.

Helen smiled apologetically at the bartender and then looked at Celty. "Tell your friend that I'm sorry, but a rainy day is a bad day for looking at sketches. Also- I'm not that good." She grinned. "And I hate to pester you about this, but I really need to know where the hospital is. That boy got hurt by a, um, well, I'm not that sure what happened, but he got hit by a newsstand."

When Shizuo had started his tantrum, Helen's vision had been blocked by a large green-and-white van with a very moe manga mascot displayed on the side, and after Shizuo's initial newsstand toss, everything else had been shrouded by smoke and dirt. She had simply assumed that the terrifying Shizuo had intimidated a driver enough to make them swerve and hit the stand, thus knocking away Masaomi, thereby causing another car to swerve into the traffic light pole, and finally sending the whole street in chaos that could have served as ground zero for World War III.

At least, that was Helen's explanation. She had no idea that Shizuo was actually Destructor the Magnificent and the thought that he was capable of superhuman feats had never occurred to her. In fact, Helen knew nothing about this man except that every inanimate object in the city was afraid of him. She just thought he was a bartender disaster magnet with a horrible temper.

And even though her assumption was absolutely correct, she still didn't know the half of it.

Celty assumed as much and decided to keep mum (not that she wasn't always mum) about Shizuo's most unique quirk. The headless rider also thought that it would be better if the girl did not take Shizuo's victim, Masaomi Kida, to the hospital- she had watched a small band of boys in yellow scarves sneak onto the scene and take him away. Celty didn't want Helen to get involved. She started typing on her PDA and then remembered that she couldn't message in English, and the rain made the sketchpad off-limits. Frustrated, she smacked her hand on her helmet.

"Sorry, ma'am, but my wearer can't communicate with you in this rain," it said to Helen. "Unfortunately, I have no idea what she's trying to say."

Helen smiled and waved the issue off. "It's alright. With an accident this big, I'm sure the police will get here soon to clean up."

Police. _The white bike_. Celty suddenly arched herself backwards and trembled, then shifted from foot to foot as if she were doing some kind of bathroom dance. Hands clenched, she brought them up to her shoulders and hopped in what could only be described as a nervous fairy circle.

She needed to get to the apartment and hide, and fast! If they didn't see her, the cops would have no idea that she was involved- she could just go home, hide under Shinra's bed (perhaps with Shinra holding her) in the fetal position, and rock herself back and forth until everything was cleared up.

Shizuo noticed his friend's nervousness. "Go on if you need to, Celty. I've got to go give my insurance information to that kid so his hospital bills're covered. And so I don't get sued." Shizuo looked over to where Kida had last fallen. Damned if the little asshole wasn't there!

He cursed and raced off to find the blonde Raira boy before Celty could even try to stop him.

"I' m sorry to be so abrupt, but we have a, um, pressing matter to attend to," said the helmet. "But Shizuo is headed for that kid, and probably the hospital, too. I'd let him take care of it and go on home, though, if I were you. You don't want to get caught in the crossfire."

Helen nodded to Celty's yellow headgear and addressed both it and the figure in black. "I understand if you need to go. Don't worry about me. Thank you for all of your help." Helen waved goodbye and started off after Shizuo.

Celty considered going with her, but upon hearing sirens in the far distance, decided against it and raced up to the top floor of the apartment building and into Shinra's arms.

On the way, though, she passed Mikado.

[Shizuo has gone after your friend, but he plans to take him to the hospital. Don't worry,] she told him.

Mikado, who had been worried before meeting her, became frantic at the words, "Shizuo has gone after your friend" and Celty's message backfired.

"Oh, no! I've got to go help him!" Mikado zoomed out the door. Celty facepalmed as well as a faceless being could and decided not to meddle anymore before she did something really awful. Of course, she knew that, on the off chance that Mikado _and_ Masaomi _and_ the sketchpad girl _and_ the yellow scarves _and_ Shizuo collided, she would be obligated to keep them from opening another can of worms. She made up her mind that as soon as the police were gone, she would go out and tie up all the loose ends.

Celty just hoped that they would all stay loose until then.

Mikado, as luck would have it, was immediately entangled. He exited the apartment building and collided headfirst into Walker.

"Hey!" He said. "It's the guy with the awesome name! How are you?" Walker steadied himself and the younger boy.

Erika got right into their faces. "I'll tell you how he is- heartbroken! Isn't that right, Mi-chan?"

Mikado was confused by the nickname.

"Or would Ryuga-chan or Ryugacchi suit you more?"

"Ryugacchi sounds too much like what you call me," interjected Walker.

"Yeah, and besides- Shizu-chan and Mi-chan's pairing could be Mishi or Mizuo if Mi-chan is dominant, or Shimi… or Shizumi if Shizu-chan is the seme! It's totally cuter that way- much better than Shizudo or Shizado or Mikazuo." She grinned. "So, how does it feel to have your jealous best friend rip away your secret love right before the big rescue and kiss scene?"

Walker tried to interject. "I think it's a bit early for the big kiss- I think this is supposed to be the romantic situation with overpowering sexual tension because neither character has confessed yet," he mused.

"What?" At first Mikado thought they were somehow referring to Masaomi and Anri (and reddened as he imagined kissing her), but everything became nonsensical as the Otaku kept on blabbering. "I don't understand."

Erika had seen his blush. "YES, you DO! Look at your face! You want Shizu-chan, don't you? Mikado's eyes, which were usually large anyway, bugged out to about twice their normal size. You want him to hold you in his arms and—"

"What are you saying, Miss Karisawa? Are you accusing poor, innocent Mikado of being involved with such a terrible brute as Shizuo?" A fourth voice, slick as glass and as unsettling as a snake's hiss, slithered into the conversation.

Izaya Orihara slid out of the shadows soon after and put a hand on his hip. "Surely the boy has better taste."

Erika wriggled her butt. "Ohhh, are you jealous too, Iza-Iza? Wow! It's more than just a love pentagon between Saburo, Dotachin, Shizu-chan, Mi-chan, and Masaomi Kiki-chan! It's a love hexagon with Iza-Iza as the sixth corner!

"Please," spat Izaya, "don't put me with Shizu-chan."

"Hmph. Stop denying it. Or would you rather it be a love square?"

"I like things complex, you know that. The shape isn't the issue, it's Shizu-chan."

"Oh. Well, if we take you and Mi-chan out of the equation, we get a really, really lonely _Blue Square_. Or should we take Shizuo into yours anyway and make two really lively love triangles?" Walker had opened one eye- just a fraction- to get a better look at the informant.

Erika had kept her smile on, but she had turned to face Izaya as well. "Yeah, like two cheery _Yellow Scarves_, maybe, if we keep Masaomi in?"

Mikado was oblivious to the meaning of the hint the Otaku duo had just dropped, but he kept it in mind for later. Blue Square and the Yellow Scarves were color gangs, weren't they? He'd have to ask- he'd have to remember to contact Erika and Walker later in case Izaya didn't feel like sharing- the man was wily, after all.

Izaya didn't show it, but he was a little perturbed at their meddling. And yet it was so amusing that they had taken it upon themselves to confront him about his plans, even in a small way. "Well, if that's what you think, I guess we'll just exit this little geometry lesson. I never liked math much." He slung an arm around Mikado's shoulders. "Please don't infect my dear kohai with your weird stories. He's very young and impressionable."

Languidly, Izaya snaked his arm off of the younger boy and sauntered off down a sidestreet.

"Remember, Mikado, fujoshi like to twist the truth to suit their needs."

"No, we just add a little drama to what's already there!"

Ah, she had taken the bait. Izaya turned and came forward. If he teased Mikado enough with some semblance of a double meaning, he could lure him away from these two before someone who was really troublesome showed up- if Erika and Walker felt like they needed to blatantly announce gang names, Kyohei Kadota might unveil Masaomi's past right here and now.

It was so funny, how that guy tried so hard to be tough and uninvolved. Dotachin easily booted out Masaomi Kida as the wannabe shogun with a too soft a heart.

Unfortunately, Dotachin had a much easier time keeping his men together- he had the foresight to Izaya-proof himself. At least, he was as immune to Izaya's meddling as humanly possible; if Izaya really wanted to play him like a fiddle, he could.

Izaya made a mental note to keep a closer watch on the van group.

"Oh, but my dear Eri, a little drama goes a long way." Little Mikado's eyes lit up. The plan was working.

"Is that why you make Shizu-chan chase after you so much? Because you want dramatic foreplay?"

This chick had a one-track mind.

"Erika, Erika, Erika!" Slovenly, Izaya slumped against himself and let his jacket fall off of his shoulders a little. "He is not good enough for me. I'm much to refined and elegant for a beast like him."

"But isn't that what makes a good match? The opposite thing?" Walker inquired.

"He isn't so much my opposite as he is beneath me," Izaya ran his hand through his sleek hair and then examined his nails, like he was bored.

Erika took his words in the way they were not intended to be taken, which, for Izaya's purposes, were exactly how he had meant for her to take them. Her happy smile became manic and fireworks went off in her eyes.

"REALLY? SO YOU ADMIT IT! YOU ARE! YOU ARE THE SEME! AHHHHH!" She thrust herself at Izaya, but Walker restrained her, trying his best to silence her raving madness.

"I have no idea what they are talking about. Let's go, Mikado."

And just like that, the leader of the Dollars was snatched from the friendly embrace of his own colorless comrades and into the jaws of Shinjuku's most despicable man.

"Is it okay for us to just leave them like that?" The youngster cast his eyes towards Walker, who was now sitting on Erika in an attempt to shut her up, but his feet were moving with his mentor's. There was no way he was going to go back.

Still, Izaya knew he needed to pretend to give the boy some free will in what he was going to do next. "If you feel like you should, you can. But they get like that all the time, so I wouldn't worry about it."

"No, I'm sure you're right." Mikado shifted his gaze and mistook Izaya's pleased, carnivorous smile for one of amusement. "I know I shouldn't be so forward, but were they talking about color gangs just now? I know about the Yellow Scarves, but what about Blue Square?"

With a casual turn of his head, Izaya concealed the reptilian grin that had erupted onto his face. How rich! How fun!

"Yes. Both Blue Square and the Yellow scarves are, as you know, color gangs."

"Are?"

"Yes. I see you've already noticed all the yellow around, but Blue Square is also coming back, too. Isn't it obvious?" He looked at Mikado. Don't tell me you didn't know that!" Izaya faked being taken aback.

"No, I didn't."

Izaya clucked his tongue and whistled. "It's a good thing I came to talk about this when I did."

That got Mikado's attention. He was practically eating out of Izaya's hand.

"You see, the Blue Squares really made the leader of the Yellow scarves angry, and the two destroyed each other because of it. But," Izaya brought his voice down to a whisper, "because of the Dollars, the remnants of both gangs are coming out of the woodwork."

"Why?" Oh, Mikado. "Is it because they feel threatened? Like an 'if we can't have it, nobody can' mentality?" So innocent, but also so clever.

And yet so naïve.

"Exactly," Izaya affirmed. "They're working together for their territory. They're looking for you."

Mikado paled. "Can you take me to their leader? Maybe we can talk things out."

"You would think. Unfortunately, I don't think that's an option. The blue square leader has a reputation for being ruthless and cruel."

"What about Yellow Scarves?"

To that, Izaya hid another grin of malicious glee in a shake of his downturned head. "That one is basically being led around by the nose by others- he's just a figurehead and he can't help you. And even if you did reveal yourself to him to convince him that you aren't a threat, it would probably backfire."

"Why?"

Oh, boy. Izaya could slander Masaomi all he wanted and Mikado would never know until it was too late. "He is a reckless fool who is given to bouts of passion. If he learns your identity, he'll target you and everyone close to you. He stops at nothing until he's sure that there is no threat to his own little bubble of reality."

"Then, what should I do?"

"Hide," Izaya said simply. "Hide and find them before they find you. Even if you don't want to take them out, you've got to corner them before you can negotiate. And you've got to work anonymously."

Mikado swallowed nervously as he became ensnared in Izaya's trap. All of this was much too real for him, especially since there was nobody he could turn to in this strange city- he had what he had wanted when he first got here- power- but he wondered if he had the right kind. Once Mikado's identity was revealed, the Dollars would fold beneath him and he'd be left, helpless, beneath the rubble.

What made it worse was the idea that the gang's collapse could potentially come down on Masaomi and Anri's heads as well.

"Tell no one," Izaya emphasized. "If they find out, they'll want to help. And if you get them involved…"

Really, Izaya's words weren't necessary to convince Mikado, but he figured that the power of suggestion wouldn't hurt the seal on the Dollars secret.

Izaya stopped walking and put a hand on his young human's shoulder. "That's all I can tell you right now."

Mikado nodded. "Thank you. I really appreciate it." Then, he fiddled around on the balls of his feet before giving a demure glance up to the older mastermind. "But, um, do you… by chance, do you know what happened to Masaomi? He got into a fight with Shizuo Heiwajima and I think he got hurt. He was gone before I could get to him."

With feigned concern, Izaya backed up and put a hand on his chest. "So that's what happened! What on earth was he thinking?"

Mikado looked away. "It's a long story."

"I see. Well, it just so happens that I had been passing by after all the damage had been done- Shizu-chan's presence explains the trashed streetlight- and I instructed a few hooligans to escort your friend to the hospital."

"Hooligans?" The boy's voice got really squeaky when he was worried.

What Izaya didn't tell him were that those "hooligans" were the Yellow Scarves that had followed Masaomi Kida from the park and to Celty's apartment- they had tried to flee when Shizuo turned the road into a war zone, but Izaya had stopped them, turned them around, and instructed them that a good soldier never leaves a man behind.

No, Izaya didn't mention any of that. Instead he said, "They weren't hooligans- they were very trustworthy and concerned young men. You don't really think that I'd entrust the wellbeing of your friend to some color gang thugs, do you? I was just joking!"

Mikado believed him.

"In fact, this whole time, I've been taking you to the hospital so you could check on him- and so I could make sure he got here myself. I don't want another Shizu-chan casualty any more than you do."

Ensuring that Kida got a room near Saki would be an added bonus, but he didn't tell Mikado about that, either.

Indeed, though, Izaya had been truthful about one thing- they were both standing about a block away from Ikebukuro's local hospital.

"Wow, thank you so much, Izaya!" He started for the door, and the older man followed. "But one more thing," Mikado said, slowing down, "What do you know about a foreign girl named Helen?"

"Huh?"

"She goes to the Higashi-Ikebukuro Central Park and draws a lot."

Izaya laughed. "What more do you need to know?"

"Um," this sounded pretty silly, even to Mikado. "Likes? Dislikes? Where she lives? What's her personality like? Um," he put a hand on his chin. "Her daily schedule would be nice, too."

"Whoa!" Izaya held up both his palms. "Are you going to stalk this girl, or something? Do you like her? What happened to that Anri girl, with the glasses?"

In reply, Mikado spluttered and flushed. "No! No! That's not it at all! It's for someone else! I just want to help a friend!"

With a quick jump of his eyebrows, Izaya relaxed on a nearby streetlamp. "Do tell."

We all know that Izaya knew the backstory already, but hearing Mikado talk about roleplaying with Shizuo Heiwajima and then being escorted bridal style to the headless rider's apartment was too priceless to pass up, even though they were basically talking about the single being Izaya Orihara hated most. Mikado's stutters sure sugar-coated everything.

"So," Izaya finished, "You want to help Shizu-chan get with this girl."

"Yes. I mean no. I mean-" Mikado wrung his hands. "I want to see him succeed in just seeing the sketchbook. Maybe he will make a friend with Helen, too, and if he can talk to her, he can talk to others, and make more friends- if he makes more friends, he'll be happier." As an afterthought, he added, "And maybe if he's happy he won't wreck the city."

Man, this was classic. Izaya threw his head back and laughed and laughed and _laughed_. "So you think Shizu-chan is a monster because he's lonely?"

Mikado hadn't thought about it that way, but now his mentor mentioned it, yes. "Actually, now that you've put it that way, I do."

Izaya stopped snickering. Mikado had not been supposed to agree.

Shizuo was a brute, plain and simple. Nobody- _nobody_- was supposed to feel sympathy for him. Nobody was supposed to like him, want to interact with him, or even lay eyes on him. On the same token, Shizuo Heiwajima was NOT supposed to meddle in affairs with Izaya's precious humanity at _all_.

Why? Simple- Shizuo couldn't be manipulated, and that made him a danger to Izaya's playtime. If humans were awed, or swayed, or amused, or fascinated, or interested in Shizuo Heiwajima, that would take them away from Izaya.

And Izaya Orihara did not share.

Hatred entered his face, and he couldn't hide it before Mikado saw it.

"I know you don't like him, but I don't think he's so bad. Maybe you two could work out your differences and work together, if you tried. Wouldn't that make your trips here easier?

So little Mikado thought he could tell Izaya what to do? _He_ thought he could tell _HIM_ what to do, the man who was playing him and everyone around him for _fools?_ Mikado thought he could put both the peaceful man and the watchful prophet _on the same level?_

Look, look at the blasphemy that Shizuo hath wrought!

"I know you are trying to help, but I really don't want to even consider thinking about that guy right now." Izaya tensed up and walked to the door of the hospital. "Let's go check on your friend, shall we?" Mikado nodded in assent and came forward as well, and tripped the automatic sensor for the door as he did. The glass panels whooshed open and Mikado stepped inside.

Suddenly, Izaya's phone rang.

Looking down at his caller ID, Izaya frowned. "I'm sorry, but I really need to take this. Go on in and find your friend- I'll be up when I finish this."

Mikado, too distracted to suspect Izaya's phone to be a bit too well-timed, bobbed his head once again and went inside, the doors closing behind him.

Izaya _had_ planned this call, after all. "Beautifully done, Namie. I couldn't have picked a more opportune moment, myself."

"You did pick it. All I did was calculate that I should dial the number fifteen point five seconds before right now, to give the signal time to send."

"Oh, Namie. You flatter me. I am a mastermind, aren't I?" He ignored the fact that she had, on the fly, figured out exactly how long it would take for the phone to pick up.

Not that it surprised Namie. She knew very well that Izaya would go for the part of her reply that boosted his ego. "Whatever. What did you want me for, anyway?" She sounded so bored.

"Well, I figure I talk to you for a couple of minutes, I'll find out if Shizu-chan is here and I'll stay out of the best buddies fest."

"Oh." Namie looked at her nails.

"Aw, miss Namie, am I boring you? Aren't you glad that your adoring boss would want to talk to you?"

She began to pull some lint off of her sweater as he prattled. "That could be bordering on sexual harassment," she quipped.

"Do you feel harassed?"

"Yes."

"Sexually?"

"Only occasionally."

Izaya mocked a sad face. "I guess I'm not trying hard enough."

"You are a pig. All men are pigs, but you are the worst."

Izaya chuckled. His secretary had given him some serious ammo. "All men are pigs? Even Seiji?"

That sure got her quiet.

Izaya knew she was just building up some (admittedly) very scathing and clever comeback, but he cut her off. "By the way, I want something fancy for lunch today, like a soufflé with onion jelly and a nice wine. Oh, and tiramisu for dessert. Arsenic's in my desk. 'Bye!" He hung up swiftly and pocketed his little telephone.

"My darling secretary, always there for my use and abuse." He laughed to himself.

Izaya did not love Namie, at least, not in particular- he loved all humans equally, and he loved to mess with them. That said, he was certainly glad that he had snagged her as his secretary- she was just too fun to mess with.

Besides, she was a babe and Izaya, twisted as he was, still liked to flirt with girls- especially if he could make them do his bidding.

Actually, Izaya flirted- in some way or another- with everyone, male or female or neither, so long as he could use them. They were all just _there_- there for his use and abuse.

"IIIIIZAAAAAYAAAAA-!"

All of them except that one, anyways.

* * *

><p>Do you like cliffhangers? I like cliffhangers. Hur hur hur!<p>

Also, also! The signature Izaya-and-Shizuo fight commences! Ready, steady, DESTROY!

Hmm. I wonder what Simon is doing...?

Thank you for reading, and please don't forget to review! Thank you so, so much!

...And remember, DRRR! is not mine. Just Helen and this story "thang".


	10. This is Why You Need Insurance

**_Warning: _**_Do I even need to warn for Shizuo's language?_

* * *

><p><em>Part Ten: This is Why You Need Insurance <em>

"Well, Mister Masaomi Kida, it seems you have a broken leg. We can set it and send you home, but seeing as how you, erm, seem to do a lot of footwork, it might be better for you to stay here for a little while afterwards. Alone." The doctor gave a pointed look to the boys dressed in yellow scarves. They had not left their boss' side since they had hauled him into the hospital.

Normally, gang-related injuries were put in the waiting room to wait longer than normal. However, the other boys' serious concern for their wounded comrade was unusual. They hadn't been rude, or mean, or snide, or crass, or threatening, and the nurse, who didn't have the heart to tell them off, called in the doctor who had a similar impression from this particular group of Yellow scarves.

Besides, they were still only children. They probably had no idea what they were getting into when they joined.

Still, the doctor did not want a mini gang meeting in his hospital. "Boys, I'll take care of your friend. Go on home- your family is probably worried about you."

The injured one, the Mister Masaomi Kida, was the one to finally convince them. "I appreciate you guys helping me, but following me in the first place was insubordination. Do as he says. Go."

And they did, reluctantly.

When the doctor was sure they were gone, he turned to the invalid boy. "I don't know what you had gotten into, but I'd get out of it as soon as I could."

Masaomi gave a dry laugh. "I plan to. I hate gangs."

The doctor gave him a long, hard look and hoisted the boy's arm over his shoulder. "We'll need to get some X-rays and then set that leg. And I'd really like you to stay here for a while."

So, that was how Masaomi Kida found himself on a rolling cot in a room on the same hall as Saki Mikajima.

He wished that the scarves were still with him, if only because then he would not be alone with his thoughts and her just down the hall. Then again, it was wrong to involve his boys in his personal affairs. Still, he didn't have time to dwell on that- his mind was elsewhere.

How could he avoid her? How could he face her? How could he apologize?

How could he protect Mikado and Anri from a hospital cot?

Why did this happen?

Why him?

How could things get any worse?

The answer, as it turned out, was just as simple as it was complicated, because no sooner had Masaomi flung himself into the deepest, darkest depths of despair, the door creaked open and a man's voice leaked through.

"Hey, is this, uh, Masaomi Kida's room?"

That voice was familiar. "Yes, uh, come in!" Masaomi was grateful for the distraction; it was an answer to his prayers.

And then Masaomi severely regretted ever praying to any deity ever when the man who walked in the room revealed himself to be none other than Shizuo Heiwajima.

Damn it all.

"Hey, um," the Fortissimo of Ikebukuro began, "How's your leg?"

How does one answer that? What do you say when the loose cannon who doesn't have the maturity to control himself and not break your leg, your town, and your chain of command waltzes in on his own two _unbroken legs_ and douchebaggy barista uniform- complete with a _bow-freaking-tie_- and asks, "How's your leg?"

"Fine, I guess."

Meaning, "It's fine, asshole, it's just _shattered in three places_ because of your _stupid ass_ 'cause you're all pissed that you couldn't make it with some chick who doesn't even speak your language. How the hell do you _think_ it is? And where the hell is my best friend?" Masaomi had gotten over being terrified and without Mikado or Anri to cover for, his disposition was just about as cloudy as the weather outside.

"Yeah, um, I'm sorry. I, uh, thought you were… It was a misunderstanding." Shizuo scuffed his feet. "Anyways, I'm going to pay for your hospital bill, so don't worry about it." He had been fiddling with a card the entire conversation, and he now held it out to Masaomi. "I gave one to the lady at the desk downstairs, but I thought, you know," he shrugged. "Yeah. You're covered in my insurance."

Huh?

"Insurance?" questioned Masaomi. He looked down at the card.

"I get it through where I work," Shizuo shrugged.

Masaomi looked at the logo on the paper and immediately felt his bad mood dissipate into one of amusement. "You work for a debt collection agency for a… a _dating service_?"

"Yeah. They pay for all the shit I screw up."

"A dating service."

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"…Look, kid, I don't get what's so amazing about that."

"Um, well, I always thought you collected cash for some, I dunno, really shady business."

Shizuo deflated. "I'm not quite as scummy as you think." He scratched the back of his neck. "Although trying to market something like love is kind of scummy, I guess," he muttered.

"Why don't you try to get a different job, then? Like, I dunno, be a boxer, or something?"

Shizuo turned to him. "I don't like violence. Really. And besides, I'd probably just end up killing the poor sucker who ended up being my opponent." He smiled to himself. "Although I do think pro wrestling is kind of cool…"

"…Anyways, yeah, about that card. It'll cover your leg. Please don't sue me." Shizuo finished with a slight bow and made for the door to find that someone was already in his way.

Mikado Ryugamine looked like a deer caught in the headlights- and in a way, he was.

Shizuo's headlights- that is to say, his eyes, blinked like an owl at the little Raira boy. "Oh, you." He fished into his pocket for his wallet and took out another card like the one he's given Masaomi. "Please don't sue me, either."

"Mikado! What are you doing here?" Masaomi cried. "I thought this guy here had, like, ripped you into little pieces, frozen half of you, and eaten the rest for lunch or something!" He flashed his usual smile, like nothing was wrong.

"WHAT?" barked Shizuo.

Mikado signaled for his best buddy to shut up before they all got killed. "N-no, Mr. Heiwajima took me to… to a friend's so that nothing would happen to me."

He couldn't tell Masaomi about Celty. Then he'd have to explain the whole Dollars thing.

"Yeah, how do you know Celty, anyway?" As per usual, Shizuo had no idea what was going on.

"Uh,"

"Well, it's not important. A friend of Celty's is a friend of mine." Shizuo smiled and reached for a cigarette. Then he paused. "I can't smoke in here, can I?" he looked at the boys, first Mikado, who was dumbstruck, then Masaomi, who was grinning.

"Sorry, bro, but you can't. Secondhand smoke is deadlier than firsthand, and poor, pitiful invalids like me can't handle it." Unsurprisingly, Masaomi's false bravado made him seem comfortable in even the most awkward of situations. He made a fake, girly, annoying coughing noise behind a dramatically raised hand.

Shizuo considered him for a moment. "You're a real obnoxious one, aren't you?"

"I aim to please." Shizuo closed his eyes at the reply and shifted his attention to the other boy.

"Well, uh, Mikido-"

"Mikado," corrected Masaomi.

"Mikado, did Celty bring you here?"

"No, I, uh, came myself. She was busy."

Masaomi panicked, thinking his friend had seen the yellow scarves take him off. "How did you find me?"

"Celty told me where you were."

Something didn't add up here. Shizuo wrinkled his eyebrows. "Celty didn't know. This one," he pointed to the bedridden yellow scarf, "was taken off by some other people before we got to him."

Busted.

"W-well, sh-she s-said that you, um, were following h-him. I-I-I-I ran into another f-friend of mine and he, um, s-said he was the one who told a bunch of guys to take Masaomi to the hospital. He was actually the one to bring me here." Mikado, trapped in a corner, decided to tell as much of the truth as he could without mentioning Izaya. That would most likely make Shizuo's peaceful mood digress into violence once again.

Alas, Shizuo was too smart for Mikado's abridged tale.

"A guy who makes a bunch of people do whatever the hell he says. Sounds bad." He inhaled sharply. "Does anyone else smell that?"

"Smell what?" Masaomi asked, innocently.

"Shit, that's what!" Shizuo's eyes narrowed into slits and he speared Mikado with them. "What did you say your friend's name was, again?"

"Um, he's more of an acquaintance, really…"

"What was his name?" he pressed.

"I-I don't think you know him…"

"WHAT WAS HIS NAME?"

"…Izaya Orihara."

Shizuo screamed the name he was given and pushed his head into the window so fast that it popped right out of the pane and shattered on the ground below.

Speak of the devil and he appears- Izaya Orihara was standing at the entrance of the hospital. As soon as he spotted Shizuo, however, he gave a flirtatious little wave and immediately began running away, tucking his umbrella under his arm.

"COME BACK, YOU DAMNED COWARD!" He put his foot in the windowsill and was about to leap out when Mikado shouted.

"Y-you'll never catch him on foot!"

Just like last time, Mikado was about to wish he'd kept his mouth shut. Shizuo looked at the boys, the bed, and the unused IV pole in the room. And the regretful Mikado was looking at an insane plan forming in his fuming head.

Masaomi, on the other hand, was looking a golden opportunity to get away from Saki, and maybe even watch the informant's face get smashed in. "If you are going after Izaya, I want in."

Mikado was stunned. Shizuo was livid.

"YOU'LL DIE."

"You have to take me anyway. It's my bed."

"NO, DUMBASS. I'LL THROW YOU OFF."

"I'll sue if you don't take me."

"WHAT PART OF 'NO' DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?"

Masaomi's face changed completely. "I have a score to settle with Izaya, too. Take me with you."

Shizuo, all other traits aside, is a nice guy. And if he weren't so freakishly strong and angry, he would be widely known as a pushover. So, when Masaomi looked in his eyes and dropped all pretense, Shizuo's retort of "Yeah, you and the rest of Tokyo, bub!" died in his throat and he decided to take on the responsibility of Masaomi Kida's life. After all, Shizuo had succeeded in keeping everyone alive during the Slasher incident, hadn't he?

Quick as a flash, he handed Masaomi the IV pole, took the brakes off the hospital cot's wheels, snatched up Mikado and threw him on Masaomi's lap before the latter could protest ("If Masaomi's going, so am I!"), then hoisted the loaded bed up and tossed it out the window and into the rain.

The Raira boys held each other and screamed, but stopped with an "UMPH!" when Shizuo jumped out, hit the ground, and caught the whole load before it collapsed on the asphalt. Masaomi and Mikado couldn't get off, though, because Shizuo immediately began to push them all forward at an insane speed before boarding it himself. He grabbed the IV pole from Masaomi and flipped it upside-down, using it to row the careening bed faster as well as steer it.

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!" screamed Mikado.

Interestingly, both Shizuo and Masaomi shouted the exact same response at him, except Shizuo replaced Izaya's name with "that flea". "THEN WHY THE HELL DID YOU TRUST IZAYA?"

Masaomi, however, also added an, "I DON'T WANT TO DIE, EITHER!" afterwards and gripped Shizuo's leg with enough force to break it, had Shizuo been an ordinary guy.

Actually, had Shizuo done the ordinary thing and thought about it before doing it, he'd have realized that bringing the Raira duo into the mix was the riskiest and stupidest idea he'd had in the history of forever. It blatantly put their lives in unnecessary danger- which Shizuo usually tried really hard not to do- and he would absolutely hate himself for it and regret it when he reflected on the day's events. Even though they had asked to go, he still should have refused.

Mikado, who was strangling Masaomi who was bear-hugging Shizuo (who was bending the metal in his hands), felt his grip slipping as their driver hooked the pole's wheels around a RIGHT TURN ONLY sign to make a sharp left. The bed tilted and Mikado slid down, bringing Masaomi with him.

Shizuo happened to glance down at them in time to haul them both up with his free hand before they flew off and then held both of them in the same arm, with Mikado in the crook of his elbow and then Masaomi sitting in his best friend's lap. His bandaged leg stuck up like some strange battle flag.

Both kids started to scream, but Shizuo drowned them out as his prey came in sight.

The flea may have been fast, but a hydroplaning hospital cot with three hollering lunatics on it was faster.

Shizuo raised the IV pole over his head and took a swing at Izaya as if he were a croquet ball.

Izaya was, as usual, clever- he leaped onto the metal rod and used its momentum to springboard off of it and onto the top of a nearby streetlight.

"DAMN IT!" exclaimed Shizuo. He uprooted a street sign as they whizzed by it, threw it backwards in the direction of his nemesis, and then rammed the IV pole into the ground.

It slowed the bed down some, but snapped off after it shredded itself against about fifteen feet of asphalt and concrete. Shizuo cursed again and held out his arm, smacking against a telephone pole and circling them around it so that they all went back the way they came, showering a spray of rainwater everywhere as they did so. On their way towards Izaya, Shizuo snagged up a vending machine.

Izaya had slipped when he leapt off of the wet streetlight to dodge the street sign, so when Shizuo and company came at him again, the foot of the cot grazed him and fishtailed around and around at a dizzying speed. Shizuo managed to aim through the rain- even from within the cot-whirlwind- and thrust the vending machine at Izaya, successfully hitting him in the shoulder. The informant dropped his umbrella, yelped, and began a lopsided sprint away from the god of destruction.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF 'BUKURO!" Shizuo screamed, dismounting the cot, which he had finally managed to stop by burying his hand deep into the street. He set both Mikado and Masaomi down on it before turning his attention back to the man from Shinjuku. Mikado puked from motion sickness.

Meanwhile, Izaya was obviously wounded, but he didn't miss the opportunity to shoot back a reply. "But then I can't make sure you don't kidnap your poor, crippled victims!"

"SHUT UP!" Shizuo found and flung a trashcan, which Izaya dodged.

"Think how worse off the youth of today would be without me! Wouldn't that just be a travesty?"

The irony of the statement resounded in tandem with the irony clang of one of Izaya's knives as it struck the metal post of another stop sign that had found its way to Shizuo's hands.

Izaya rushed in and sent forth another string of blades, which Shizuo blocked. When the Fortissimo swung at him, Izaya snuck underneath and around him to make his taller assaulter slip on the wet ground and spin backwards on his heel, and then he slashed at his face. Izaya missed, but barely.

"You are a monster," Izaya spat at him, ducking under the stop sign's return swing.

"You're a LOUSE!" Shizuo replied, thrusting the sign forward like a spear.

Izaya hadn't been expecting that and got a cut from the force of the air that Shizuo's impromptu weapon displaced as it breezed by.

As much as Izaya wanted to run the moron through a few alleyways before dead ending him into the front of a truck, he knew that he couldn't because his favorite driver wasn't doing his routes today.

But who said Izaya needed a truck? He whipped out his phone and dialed a quick number before he performed a backhand spring over to the small crowd of onlookers that had decided to stick around or had to pass by. He dropped the ringing phone into the hands of one of the more capable ones, the ones who weren't actually interested in what was going on.

"Tell them one of theirs is missing," he said, pointing at Masaomi.

Seiji Yagiri shifted Izaya's cell phone to the ear that Mika was not currently nuzzling and nodded at the informant, who winked in return and charged back onto the battlefield.

Izaya circled around Shizuo and kept his distance. "So I hear there's some girl you're after," he said, like they were two buddies shooting the breeze.

Shizuo roared and charged him.

"How far do you think that's gonna get, huh?"

His reply was another jab of the stop sign and then an upward swing that Izaya again used to catapult himself to higher ground. Sadly, there was no way for him to prepare for rain-soaked footing, even when he anticipated it, so he ungracefully slid 0ff of the slick metal streetlight (again) and onto his butt in a puddle on the ground.

Shizuo, who was aggravated that Izaya knew about the sketchbook and its owner, was secretly ecstatic that his wily mortal enemy had, as usual, misconstrued Shizuo's motives. The flea really couldn't latch onto him, which was good, but he was still annoying just by existing.

Still, the man in black did look pretty funny plummeting ass-first to the ground. Shizuo laughed.

"How's the view?" He asked, raising his weapon high and running through the rain towards Izaya.

"It would be perfect, if it weren't for you," Izaya admonished, pushing himself forward in the water and under Shizuo's legs. He then lifted himself into the air with his arms and pushed his feet down into the back of Shizuo's head.

Shizuo didn't notice, but he still went down as he tripped in the rain, and Izaya, who had been planning to push off of him for another acrobatic feat, went down with him when his solid enemy's skull gave way. They collapsed, with Shizuo faceplanting into the street and Izaya falling on his rear (AGAIN) and then crumbling onto his back, legs splayed.

In the near distance, sirens sounded.

Izaya tried lifting himself, but he felt his shoulder- the one Shizuo had nailed with the vending machine- give. His earlier backflips had not helped at all, either. Sloppily, he used his other arm to raise himself and discovered Shizuo glaring at him from between his spread legs.

Always a crowd-pleaser, Izaya spotted Erika peeking through the mass of faces and grinned at her. "But Shizuo, here? In front of all these people? My! How forward!"

He didn't get to see the fujoshi's reaction because the Fighting Doll had lifted himself onto his knees and swung at him with his fists and the sign. "What the _HELL_ are you TALKING ABOUT?" The veins in his temples began to throb and the pounding in his head overtook the approaching sirens. Shizuo hated this guy.

Izaya ignored him and shoved his foot in his face, again using him as something to push off of. He leaned forward as he kicked, turning himself 90 degrees and onto his toes, knees bent. "I'm sorry, but you haven't even taken me out to dinner yet!" He patted Shizuo's cheek. Shizuo bit him.

With a wince, Izaya yanked his hand away and jumped back before straightening out and running towards the empty intersection.

Shizuo took the bait and got back onto his feet. He harpooned the stop sign and sprinted towards Izaya, who had leapt over the sign and had taken his place as the high and mighty one atop the construction barrels on the edge of the sidewalk corner.

In his rage, poor Shizuo didn't even see the ambulance coming. It hit him and then left tire tracks over his body as it finished skidding around the curb.

The men in the ambulance ran out in a panic and Izaya made his escape, snatching up his umbrella on the way.

"Look both ways before crossing the street!" He called.

Shizuo groaned and just stayed on the ground, letting the rain wash away the blood streaming from his nose and the dirt on his white shirt.

He hated that flea. He really did.

He saw the ambulance crew gather around him. "I'm fine," he said. "I know this looks bad, but it happens a lot. Go get the two Raira kids and take them out of the rain."

"But-"

Shizuo sat up and cracked his neck. "Just do it."

Eventually, Masaomi, Mikado, and Shizuo all found themselves wrapped in towels in the hospital. Masaomi had gotten himself a new cast because the old one had gotten soaked in the rain- and because the trauma from the bed adventure had jostled it around so much that they had to reset it.

"I'm not going to be able to pay my rent this month if I keep this up," muttered Shizuo.

"Huh?" asked Mikado.

"Most of the money for the damages I cause comes from my paycheck."

"Just stay here, then, dude," said Masaomi. "They could, like, treat you for that run-over or whatever."

Shizuo looked at his towel. "They just did."

"Why don't you stay with Celty?" suggested Mikado. It was a good idea, but Shizuo would never want to trouble her- not with something like that. Besides, wouldn't she want to be alone with Shinra? Shizuo snuggled into his towel more and pretended that what he was feeling wasn't jealousy.

"Why the hell am I talking about this with you?" He finally muttered.

"Because we can help," said Masaomi in a way that let Mikado know that he had a plan.

"How?"

Masaomi turned himself- cast and all- to face Shizuo from the bed. "What if I lived with you and paid part of the rent?"

"_What?_" Shizuo and Mikado chorused.

Actually, it was the perfect plan. It got Masaomi away from Saki, and if he ever wanted to ask Izaya anything, he could do it without being further hounded- he had a Heiwajima guard dog posted at his new place of residence. Furthermore, the scarves wouldn't harass him, either- not so much the loyal ones, like the ones that had followed him today, but the ones that made Masaomi suspicious.

Like Horada.

Masaomi could do research into the Dollars on his own and with the scarves without involving Mikado or Anri- and he wouldn't be pushing them away, either- hell, with Shizuo Heiwajima as his roommate, nobody would dare screw with Masaomi's visitors!

And if Mikado did decide to try to help the older guy with his sketchbook adventure, it would be that much easier to keep an eye on him (and warn him when he had gone too far.)

Masaomi smiled. "I know you called me obnoxious- and I am, a little- but I can tone that down. I don't eat that much, but I can pay for groceries, too. I'll even sleep on the couch. Or the floor. I don't care. And I don't listen to loud music."

"Kid, don't you have parents?"

Masaomi laughed. "They don't care, and they're barely ever home. I mean it. Call 'em if you don't believe me."

"No." Shizuo shook his head.

"Why not?"

"That's too much responsibility for me."

"I'm not a dog, dude. I'm a person."

"I know, and that's why I can't risk it."

"Masaomi," Mikado interjected, "You can stay with me. I can bring your schoolwork home, and I can help you with that leg."

Masaomi gave him a pointed look. "Mikado, your apartment sucks. I go on the stairs there and I'm afraid that they are going to collapse beneath me. How's that going to feel when I'm on crutches?"

In return, Mikado tilted his head. "I agree with Mr. Heiwajima. You should stay here, where they can take care of you, and then go to your house."

"What? Stay here, flat on my back, looking at the hospital ceiling for hours on end? And then go home and repeat the process? No, thank you."

Something Masaomi had said struck a chord in Shizuo. When he was younger, he often found himself in the scenario the boy had described. Only Kasuka, Shinra, and his parents ever visited him, and he would be stuck in the hospital for months on end sometimes. It was lonely.

"Do you have any siblings, Masaomi?" Shizuo interrupted.

"Huh-what? Oh, no. It's just me."

"Then I'll take you."

"Really?" said Masaomi.

"Really?" echoed Mikado.

"What the hell," Shizuo shrugged.

Masaomi lowered his eyelids. "Can I have a condition?"

"Are you in a position to be asking-?" Mikado felt Masaomi grab his hand and shove it into his speaking mouth.

"I'm not going to throw any wild parties or anything, but can my friends- this guy," he pointed at Mikado, "and that girl in the park- Anri Sonohara- come over and visit me?"

Shizuo got a strange look on his face and Masaomi and Mikado got the inexplicably positive feeling that they got a lot more than they bargained for in Ikebukuro's Strongest. "Well, I'd expect them to," he said, like it had been understood all along that they would.

Just then the male nurse came in and gave them all their dried clothes. Masaomi's hoodie was missing.

"I'm sorry, but we just couldn't find your shirt, sir. It was all torn and dirty, though, so it's possible that we threw it out by mistake. You can wear the hospital gown, though."

"And I really liked that hoodie, too," he murmured. "Oh, well," he decided, and got changed.

As it turned out, Masaomi wasn't the only one who had misplaced something. When Izaya sat down to his soufflé-with-onion-jelly-and-a-nice-wine-and-tiramisu-for-dessert lunch, he looked up at Namie in an uncharacteristically needy way and said, "Can you bring me my phone tomorrow? Your brother has it."

* * *

><p>Izaya versus Shizuo. Wrote it fast. I gave it a once-over, but I was bad and did not go all hardcore in proofreading, so please don't hesitate to tell me stuff like how I'm a moron and Shizuo is NOT spelled "Shizup" or "Shixuo" or that fill-in-the-blank. I love constructive criticism!<p>

That said, I intentionally made Shizuo a little bit out of character to move the fic forward faster, much like the cot he rode through town. WATCH OUT FOR SPEEDING BEDS. Please tell me if it was too bad.

And I had an outline for this chapter that involved Simon, but that got scrapped. I'm sorry, man!

As always, please read and review! I'm grateful to those that do- even the anonymous ones! You know who you are, and I love you!


	11. Fighting Doll and Barbie

_Part Eleven: Fighting Doll and Barbie_

Shizuo stood in the park and stared at the empty bench by the stream.

He was nervous- what was going to happen this time to keep him from seeing the sketchpad? It was a little overcast, sure, but it was the kind of tension that made a day better. The few clouds made it cooler and the slight breeze nullified the humidity- it wouldn't rain today. He was sure of it.

The girl wasn't there yet.

Shizuo checked his phone and looked at the time- he didn't have to meet Tom again until much later. Still, he wished that something would happen so he didn't have to sit here and wait forever.

Normally, Shizuo liked relaxing, but this waiting was messing with his groove- mostly because it wasn't bright and sunny, but also because he was out of cigarettes.

As Masaomi would have said, "This blows."

The kid was an interesting little guy- when Shizuo had carried him back to the apartment (What? There had been no need to make the poor kid hobble all over town on crutches), he had been all jokes and awkward smiles, almost enough to piss Shizuo off. But when his friend, Mikido? Mikida? No, it sounded more like avocado… anyway, when Mickey Mouse or whatever had left, Masaomi had clammed up and transformed into a brooding introvert. Once his friend came back with some clothes, though, his bubbly personality sprang forth once again. As expected, it receded for good as soon as their guest was gone.

Shizuo didn't say anything about it, but he knew he'd eventually have to- it was a bigger nuisance to have an angst-filled teenager than an artificially vapid one. And if Masaomi was going to stay with Shizuo, he'd have to learn that the only one allowed to crash the apartment with a negative vibe was its original owner, dammit! Shizuo had to teach that whippersnapper what's what!

He snorted in resolution and looked back at the bench. She still wasn't there.

So if Masaomi's friends came over, what would they want to eat? Wait, wait, he wasn't their mom. Masaomi said he would supply grocery money. It was his to worry about.

Except Masaomi was on crutches. Shizuo would let him pay for everything- that was fair- but he was not about to let a cripple make a pilgrimage to a grocery store and back. Ah, shit, he had to bring the Raira brat something to eat for lunch today, too. Shizuo had nothing in the refrigerator except milk.

Then again, milk made strong bones, so maybe if he drank enough of it, Masaomi Kida's leg would be healed and he could go feed himself.

_No_, Shizuo berated himself, _that's nonsense and I know it because I've tried it._

Or maybe it wasn't nonsense- it _had_ worked because he, Ikebukuro's Fighting Doll, was now nigh indestructible.

That durability had taken twenty-plus years to develop, though.

No. Shizuo shook his head. He was not going to babysit for twenty-four years just so some punk with an attitude could have his bones crystallize into those of Superman. Besides, his leg would heal before twenty-four years were up. At least, he hoped it would.

But what if it didn't? What if Shizuo had really screwed up terribly and had somehow absolutely destroyed Masaomi's leg? More importantly, WHY THE HELL DID HE AGREE TO LET THE TWERP LIVE WITH HIM?

Shizuo growled and felt his jaw clamp down on where a cigarette should be. He did not want to watch over Masaomi. Then again…

In reality, Shizuo's rent was partially covered in his deal with work, but his recent destructive bursts were pushing him closer to being a liability to the company rather than an asset.

He was reducing himself to just being an _ass_, so to speak.

If Shizuo wasn't collecting more cash than he was burning, he'd get fired- and he couldn't afford for that to happen because he _just couldn't afford it. _Not to mention that he had a promise to keep. Slowly, Shizuo's teeth stopped grating against each other as he thought of his little brother. What was Kasuka up to, nowadays? He let his mind wander towards his sibling.

On the way to Kasuka, his absentminded train of thought led him to look over to find the girl and her sketchpad sitting where they were supposed to, like every other day. They stared back at him like expectant passengers at an obscure an unexpected train stop.

He waited. They waited. Then Shizuo realized that his whole interest in the sketchpad had been one big, giant waiting game and he was fed up with it. He stood up and walked on over like he knew her.

Technically, he did.

He stopped in front of her bench like he did the first time he'd tried to introduce himself and just gave a small wave. "Hey."

This time, she nodded and smiled. "Mister Shizuo?"

"Yep, that's me. Who're you?"

"Helen Aricelly I am."

"Okay. I can manage that one. It's nice to meet you, miss, uh, Helen."

She bent over and at first Shizuo thought she was choking, but then realized she was trying not to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Shizuo asked. He had no way of knowing that the sketchbook in her hands had just taken his already-blatant Engrish and further slaughtered its owner's name in a spot-on caricature of the peaceful man.

Helen turned her grinning face upwards and Shizuo had the inexplicable feeling that the light in her eyes wasn't unbridled glee, but panic that she had been caught doing something bad. However, he quickly forgot about it when Helen answered his Japanese with her own form of English-accented Japuneeze. "Funny, to believe you want object so long," she smiled and held Canson out to him with both hands.

He didn't notice that she had thwacked it unnecessarily hard on her lap before giving it over. He thanked her and opened the cover.

"This guy smells like smoke," Canson whined.

"Shut up before you get us all into trouble," commanded Bag.

"We're already in trouble, applebrains."

"The pattern on my front is trendy and intelligent, not just childish," the bag snapped back. Helen swiftly flipped the satchel over so that the apple on the front didn't show.

Shizuo, however, was happily flipping through the pages of the book. He grinned. "Is this a… flying elephant?"

The words "flying" and "elephant" were not in Helen's sparse vocabulary. She cocked her head to the side. "Wha-at?"

He turned it to her. "This. Elephant. You know," he made his arm into a trunk and waved it like it was blowing water, "big animal. That flies like a bird." He let the end of his trunk flutter away from his face.

Helen gave an abashed laugh and nodded. In return, Shizuo lifted his shoulders and turned to a new page.

"I don't like this guy," Canson complained. Helen ignored it and patted Bag to make it do the same.

A restaurant scene greeted Shizuo next, and he chuckled when he noticed a particularly large and dark figure taking up most of the paper. "Simon!" He grinned. "It even looks like him."

He flipped over a few silly pages of cartoon characters, but he stopped on a particularly ridiculous-looking comic-style page. All the speech bubbles had English scribbles in them.

"Can you tell me what this one means?" He again showed Helen Canson's contents.

Oh. _That_ one. The joke wasn't very funny, and it required a little bit of knowledge of some German terms, not just English.

"Bad funny. No good."

"Try me." Helen didn't understand the exact meaning of what he said, but he really wanted to know. She flicked her fingers and shoulders in a gesture of admittance. Then, she gestured for him to sit down. He did, and she moved Canson into the air between them.

She shoved a finger to the blocky character with a wonky jaw and bulging eye. "Zom-bee. Not dead, not live. Eating of people." Shizuo narrowed his eyes and riddled out her words.

"A zombie. Okay. I got it."

She nodded and moved her finger to his speech bubble. "Noise in living head," she said. "Music."

This one was a little harder, because Helen had used the incorrect word for "head" in context of the one on your shoulders- she used the one for a dead beast- still, Shizuo eventually figured it out.

"He's got a song playing in his head."

"Good thinking." Helen's finger journeyed across the page to the next panel, where the zombie was beating his ear against his hand, like something was stuck in it. "German humans say song inside heads," she again failed to use the word for "head" that goes on shoulders, "name, um," she wiggled her earlobe, "bug-snakes…" Helen squirmed when Shizuo still didn't understand. She drew a circle with her index finger around the equally restless worm in the zombie's palm in the next panel. "That, except," she messed with her ear again.

"A worm… and your ear?"

"Ear? Worm?" Helen didn't know which word meant "ear" and which meant "worm", so she combined them and prayed for the best. "Ears in worms."

"Do what?" This was hard. "You mean worms in ears?" Shizuo was getting a little fed up.

"Yes!"

"Germans say that songs in your head are worms in your ears?"

"Yes!" Helen pointed down again, to the next thing the cartoon said. "Written here that zom-bee had."

Shizuo smiled. "Oh, I get it. 'Cause his brain's rotted. He had an earworm." When Helen nodded and smiled back, Shizuo's frustration melted away. It wasn't so bad communicating with this girl, after all.

"That's really neat," he said, and flipped to yet another page.

"I'll show you neat, buddy boy," growled Canson.

Helen frowned at her sketchpad with furrowed eyebrows. Shizuo, who had turned to ask her about the person in the next drawing, caught her making faces. "What's wrong?"

With a nod to her favorite Christmas movie, she thought up a lie, and she thought it up quick. "Bad marks. No good."

Shizuo looked at the picture and then at the fountain. "Looks good to me," he mumbled.

The page after that had some sketches of bizarre monsters and a variety of unusual flora sprinkled on it. Upon examining the next one, Shizuo figured that Helen really liked fantasy creatures because it was more or less the same kind of idea.

"What the hell is this?"

Geez, this one was embarrassing, too! This Shizuo guy sure knew how to pick the most awkward, ignorant, offensive, and obscure things in there to ask about. Helen felt her lips twitch in shame and she steeled herself.

She looked him square in the face and shouted her answer as loud as she could.

"GODZILLA!"

Godzilla? Really? Shizuo looked stunned. That was a bad sign, wasn't it? Oh, why did that girl have to have poor language skills! There was no way an eavesdropper could understand what was going on in context to Shizuo's reactions.

And how could a foreigner be any tackier? This could be bad.

Shizuo opened his mouth to say something, but his words were drowned out by the inexplicable, instant response Ikebukuro's citizens gave to Helen's proclamation.

"GODZILLA!" The kid with all the piercings by the park entrance brought in is arms like those of a tyrannosaurus rex and stamped his feet loudly, roaring the whole way to his "opponent"- a kogal broke from her clique of friends with a cry of "MOTHRA!" and a flapping of her arms, purse and all.

Even the old woman across the way put down her knitting and gave a great squawk, soaring in as best a little old lady could to join the battle. "RODAN!" She croaked.

Neither Helen nor Ikebukuro's strongest had an inkling of what on Earth just happened. However, from the bushes nearby, Mikado did. He looked at his cell phone screen.

[New Dollars Mission: Fighting Doll Needs a Barbie- anybody in Higashi-Ikebukuro Central Park, help out the foreign girl who is talking with Shizuo Heiwajima before she angers him, if you can! We want them to get along, but if something bad happens, get her out of there!]

The replies varied from cowardly (or wise, depending) replies like, [No way! Stay out of his way- we'll make it worse!] to [We can stage it to be like in _Lady and the Tramp_ at the end! Cuuuute!] or [If he gets a girl, he'll probably calm down. It'll be good for all of us!] Mikado smiled at the predominantly positive replies and how excited everyone was to have a request from their leader. The Dollars were pumped and lying in wait for the first snag in today's events.

Obviously, Helen's little Godzilla stunt qualified as a snag, so when the Dollars saw Ikebukuro's god of violence put on a blank face, they'd decided to step in.

[When you read this, please follow my lead! Don't be shy!]

Sure enough, Ikebukuro bore witness to an interesting show between three daikaiju in broad daylight and with no alcoholic influence.

Shizuo laughed, thank God. Helen was still confused.

"They're other monsters. Took me a second, since I don't watch a lot of stuff like that, but that's what they are." He smiled. "Why the hell they did that, though, I'll never know."

Helen did not understand.

"Movie monsters. Those people are having a, um, big fight."

She frowned and shook her head.

Shizuo became more amused. "Yeah, I don't get it either." He turned the page and looked at some robot fights and a couple of portraits.

The daikaiju in the park eventually stopped "fighting" and shook hands. The two younger ones helped the woman back to her bench and walked off together, texting away and laughing.

[It worked!] read Mikado's phone. [Yeah, he totally thought it was funny! The god of destruction actually seems like a really cool guy…]

[Everyone, help out! If you're smart, everything will work out just fine!]

A small torrent of amazement and surprised [Really?] messages flooded Mikado's inbox, but the real kicker came near the end of the rush.

[Yeah, Shizuo's a really nice guy if you get to know him- just don't mention his brother or Izaya Orihara and don't mess up his clothes… I don't think I need to tell you to not try to pick a fight with him. Since he's in a good mood, you should be fine if you give him some distance. Oh, and he likes milk.]

Mikado was inclined to interrogate this guy. [How do you know? Who are you and how do you know so much?] Izaya was suspect, of course, so the information should be reliable, but Mikado thought it best to ask for identification anyway. He waited a moment for the familiar returning buzz.

[It's wise you ask- I'll have to quit being a Dollar for this and then rejoin, but I'm Shizuo's boss. If you can, tell him he doesn't have to work today- his cell is off. Good luck! :D]

Wow- it takes all kinds to make the Dollars. Mikado's gang responded with a few more astounded comments and their leader began to formulate a few creative public reactions to some of the possible Shizuo-scenarios they would likely encounter.

Considering the only scenario Mikado could recall involved the fighting doll destroying the city, his brainstorming wasn't getting very far. It formed into a little raincloud drifting over his head- he had kind of put everyone in a little too deep.

Well, there wasn't much he could do about it now.

He looked over at Shizuo and Helen and tried once again to listen in on what they were saying.

"Well," the blonde man had turned to yet another sketch, and was regarding it with some surprise. "What kind of sushi is _that_?"

Helen recognized "what" and "sushi" and Shizuo's inquisitive tone, so she tried her best to answer him.

"Cake of cheese."

"Cheesecake."

"Yes. Add strawberries."

"Strawberry cheesecake sushi." He frowned. "Was it any good?"

"No?"

"You say that like you don't know."

"Cheesecake and strawberry displeases."

"You don't like cheesecake?"

"Strawberries."

"You don't like strawberries?" He leaned back. "What is wrong with you?"

The phrase "What is wrong?" can be taken several ways, and Helen, who was not savvy with verbal context, was a little befuddled. "Everything is fine."

Shizuo chuckled. "Are you trying to be smart with me?" When Helen's face scrunched up and reddened, his amusement erupted into full-on glee. "You have no idea what's going on, do you?"

Canson was about to bust a ream. "What is he saying? Dammit, Helen, get away from this guy! He's dangerous and mean!"

This was incorrect, and Helen knew it- Shizuo was dangerous, true (she had no idea how true), but he wasn't being outright mean. Poor Helen just didn't have the gall to be anything but mortified. She bit her lip and shook her head to answer both the man next to her and the book in his hands.

Stupid girl- now Shizuo felt bad. He closed Canson and handed it back to her. "I'm sorry I upset you. Here."

"They displease?"

"Uh, no, I just thought you didn't want me looking at them."

"Yeah, whatever, you're ugly to look at too, pal!" Canson had no idea what Shizuo was saying and it was too worked up to listen to any of Bag's rough and condescending recaps of what was actually going on.

Honestly, Helen didn't mind him seeing Canson, she was just flustered since he picked the most difficult and inane stuff to ask about.

"You look if desire."

"No, you don't have to please me. They're nice, though."

"Oh. Thank you." She set Canson down inside of her Bag.

Well, what now? They were two strangers on a bench and they couldn't effectively communicate. Would it be rude for Helen to start drawing again? Would it be impolite for Shizuo to unceremoniously get up and leave? Geez, why did he have to be so socially inept?

Mikado whipped out his phone. [We've come to a standstill. Any ideas?]

Ask and ye shall receive- the faithful Dollars responded mere seconds later. Hurriedly, he read the replies.

[Hell, no, dude! If we all get involved, we all die!] So much for that guy.

The next one wasn't a dud. [Shun the nonbeliever! They ought to go out to eat! Somebody, anybody, do you have a flier for somewhere nearby? Nothing works better than the power of suggestion!]

[I've got a Wendy's coupon.]

[Ew, no, dude! We can't have them go anywhere high-end, but that just screams cheap date!]

[Keep them in that park for, like, ten minutes. I've got the perfect place and guy for the job.]

[Okie! I have wonderful distraction! Like performances, yes? Please come to park and dance!]

[Sure, we'll dance! Make yourself known- we're waiting!]

A cute foreign girl with freckles and blonde hair walked over to the open space of the park. By her side was a huge, overstuffed bag and on her face was an oversized smile. She pulled out a boom box and microphone (was it a karaoke machine? Who knows- this chick was obviously eccentric) and made an announcement.

"I love para para dance! Ikebukuro, let us all dance today in honor of great city! Do I see any leaders today?"

Two guys came off the sidewalk and waved their arms. "Yeah! Sign us up!"

A gaggle of girls followed after them, and then a few salarymen set their briefcases down by the little boombox. "If you can teach us, we'll do it!"

Mikado would be lying if he said he wasn't bursting with pride.

In the park, the foreign ringleader smiled an angel's smile and looked to Helen. "You dance?"

Helen looked at Shizuo. "They're going to dance in a group. It's, um, a line dance." She cocked her head to the side and he tried once again to explain it to her. "Everybody does the same moves at the same time." He did something resembling the Macarena from his seat. "Get it? Do you want to try?"

Freckled blondie trained her baby blues on him. "You want help her? Come! Let us all dance!" The girl walked over and held out her hand to them.

"Uh, I don't really dance…" started Shizuo, but Helen had already taken her fellow foreigner's hand.

The cute scarf tied around the girl's neck had cinched it for her- "We're doing a big group dance. They're lots of fun and at the very least it will break the awkward doldrum you just got yourself in. And don't worry- this girl is way more quirky and attention-grabbing than your worst dancing could ever be."

"Thanks," Canson replied on Helen's behalf.

Blondie held her other hand out to Shizuo. "Dance too, please. It's more fun if we do it together."

Shizuo paused. He felt a bashful smile forming on his face and accepted her invitation as well. He'd always wanted to do something like this.

Imagine- the feared and frightening Shizuo Heiwajima invited to dance with nice, regular people!

"I haven't a clue how in the hell I'm supposed to do this dance," he told blondie. "Neither does Helen," he added, jerking his pointer finger at his companion.

"So easy! We teach you- Ikebukuro is big family! Ready, leaders?" With another stunning smile, blondie began to do a few simple dance moves and Shizuo clumsily followed along. Helen, who was doing much better, laughed at how uncoordinated he was.

Shizuo had lived his life with monstrous strength- he didn't need graceful or efficient ways to move his body because he'd developed the capability to absorb all the shock his reckless actions earned him and keep going like it was nothing. So when he tried to dance, he looked like a newborn ostrich trying to run.

Why had he agreed to do this, again? Whatever, the music had started and he tried his best to follow along.

He forgot the moves and went the wrong way, or didn't go any way at all, or went the right way at the wrong time and frequently ran into the other dancers. It was quite a sight- Shizuo was, as usual, the ultimate monkey wrench in the works. The bystanders were very amused. Shizuo was just frustrated.

The dance ended before Shizuo got close to boiling over, though, and the music faded out to Helen's snickers.

"I don't think that guy is good enough to qualify for having two left feet- he's awful," commented Bag.

Canson wasn't in the mood for jokes. "Let's go, Helen." She ignored him and turned to Shizuo, whose face reflected Helen's from mere moments ago.

"Regret the dance?"

He thought about it for a second. "No. It was fun, even though I feel like an ass." He turned to the other dancers. "Sorry for running into you guys. Thanks for havin' me."

His fellow Ikebukureans were indeed intimidated, but one of them managed a smile. "Anytime, man."

Helen watched Shizuo closely as the other citizens said goodbye to him. There was something funny about their attitudes- and something sweet, too. How odd.

"How feel you about dance I feel about Canson."

"Canson?"

"Book. Of pictures." She pulled it out.

"How I felt about dancing just now, you feel about people looking at your sketchbook?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

[Barbie and fighting doll are still in park!]

The answering buzz was swift. [So is the next distraction! I sent him on over- he should be there now!]

Sure enough, the hulking form of Simon entered the park with a round of applause and a stack of fliers. "Wonderful! Wonderful dancers! You should all come eat sushi to celebrate!" He spotted Shizuo. "Oh, Shi_zu_o!"

The man in question turned to Helen. "You want sushi? I can help you get some without strawberries, if you want." Everything was just _too_ perfect.

Mikado _so_ felt like a boss today.

* * *

><p>Para para dancing DOES exist! Look it up if you don't believe me! Anyway, chapters'll take longer to come out now since busy things happen. XD But I know where I'm going with this story. I think.<p>

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for readin' and please don't forget to review!


	12. What Was Your Name?

_Part Twelve: What Was Your Name?_

Anri Sonohara was a simple girl- she liked sweets, cute things, and her friends. At least, we think she liked her friends because not even she was sure that she loved them, but she certainly didn't hate them. For Anri, knowing if she loves someone like that is impossible to say.

See, Anri had something to feel love for her.

Some people have minds like sieves, or hearts of ice, or, in Shizuo's case, literally have muscles and bones of some other indestructible non-organic material that muscles and bones aren't supposed to be made of. Anri fell in with the former two in that her quirk wasn't a literal abnormality, but an abstract one- she could not not feel emotions like other people; she felt them through a filter that coated everything with "love".

Bright, red, bleeding, screaming, slicing love. Anri had a heart of steel and it was in the suspicious shape of a blade named Saika.

Saika spoke of her "love" and cutting and blood and togetherness a lot. It was enough to make poor Anri insane, and it made a lot of lesser people just that. Luckily, our Anri could engulf Saika within herself and consume her wails within the confines of her own deep, dark, black hole of a heart.

There is an emptiness within Anri that Saika fills. Unfortunately, the fit isn't perfect.

If you've ever seen a girl with glasses and a vacant expression wandering around the streets of Ikebukuro, that's Anri. She isn't completely aware of what she is doing, so please make sure she gets home safely. Otherwise, there's no telling what kind of mishaps may pounce upon her- Saika likes to distract her and get her into trouble that (hopefully for Saika) leads to an unavoidable unsheathing of the cursed blade. If Saika can goad Anri into daydreaming, there is no telling what might happen.

For example, today, on one of her many meanderings, Anri was so preoccupied with contemplating the sky with her mouth half open that she barreled headlong into a very tall, very quiet, and very oblivious Shizuo Heiwajima.

"Hey, buddy, watch where you are—oh, it's you." He languidly turned around and gave the girl a hard stare. "I know I just saw you, but, uh, who are you, again?

Anri blinked. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Heiwajima! I'm Anri Sonohara! I'm sorry!" Gosh, the little girl sounded like her friend, not the Kida boy, but the other one- the avocado boy whose name started with an "M".

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the one who forgot your name."

"I, um, I ran into you and I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Oh. Huh. I guess you did, didn't you?" It hadn't been that big of a deal and he was in a good mood, so Shizuo had forgotten it already.

"I'm so sorry!" Anri completely misinterpreted his casual body language.

"It's okay! You don't have to apologize."

"Oh," she swallowed. "Sorry."

"No, really, it's fine!"

"Sorry!"

"Look, it doesn't matter! Stop sayin' you're sorry!"

"I'm so sorry!"

This girl wouldn't stop apologizing! What the hell!

"I said stop!"

"Oh. Um, I- I-" Thank the heavens above that Anri noticed Helen before the next "sorry" came out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry, I've interrupted you." She still said it, but now the annoying apology was redirected- the next sentence from her lips contained neither hide nor hair of an "I'm sorry!" Her interest was with Helen. "Hello. I'm Anri Sonohara. It's nice to meet you."

Canson was all over this. "She's introducing herself! She's Anri Sonohara!"

However, the sketchpad's announcement was superfluous because Helen knew the phrase that came out of Anri's mouth (sans her name) quite well.

"Helen Aricelly I am." She got the answer out, but she had a very unsettled feeling when she looked at Anri- she had seen her briefly when she had first met Mikado and Masaomi in the park and had gotten the same ominous vibes then, too.

"She isn't from here and she doesn't speak a lot of Japanese," Shizuo explained.

"Oh, and you are showing her around?"

Shizuo pondered the question. "Well, I-" Did going to Russia Sushi constitute as being "shown around?" "Um, I don't know."

"Huh?"

Helen didn't like being around this girl, but it wasn't the girl's fault. Little Anri seemed nice enough, like the bad emanating from her being was not of her own doing, or like she was oblivious to it. Still, Helen didn't want to be so close to her.

"Mister Shizuo," Helen interrupted, "Remember appointment for today. My apologies cannot eat."

Shizuo turned to her. "Oh, okay. Maybe next time."

"See in park!" She gave a nod to both he and Anri before escaping into the crowd.

Canson was elated, so much that he felt lighter within Bag. "Don't you feel safer when he is far away from you?"

"No," said Bag, "Because you are still here."

"Shaddup!"

"I am closed. Unfortunately, that doesn't have any effect on you."

"Oh, you piece of cheesecloth! I'll show you what it means to-!" Helen interrupted them as usual, but her voice held more urgency than normal.

"Did you two hear that?"

"Hear what?" Canson asked.

"That girl. Anri Sonohara."

"She liked to apologize," Canson offered.

"No, not that. From within her."

"Huh?"

"There was the voice of something half-crazy coming from within her. I don't think it was something on her clothing."

Bag shook itself at Helen's side. "Well, I didn't hear anything speaking on her."

"That's not good," Helen decided, and walked back home.

Back where she had left Shizuo and Anri, Mikado was thinking the exact same thing. His Dollars texts had never described Helen, so when Anri became the only girl with Shizuo Heiwajima, guess who everyone assumed to be the Barbie?

[Wow! She's cute!]

[Isn't she a bit young?]

[Maybe she just wants a bad boy to rebel against her parents with.]

[Oh, I think it's super-romantic! The age gap keeps them tragically so far apart despite their closeness!]

[It's just a harmless date. Haven't you ever heard of things like host clubs?]

[She seems pretty happy even though she's flustered.]

[Aww! How cute! He's trying to keep her from apologizing- it's a sorry fight!]

[Glasses are hot.]

[Naw, man, boobs are hot. Now we know how he likes 'em.]

Mikado wanted to die. He grabbed his phone and began a text saying that Anri was NOT the girl they were trying to set Shizuo up with, but then he remembered the conversation he had with Izaya.

Would his continued interest in the issue and his adamant refusal of Anri as the Barbie constitute suspicious behavior? Could that alone be enough to uncover the Dollar Boss's identity and put Anri in danger? Mikado couldn't take that risk.

But Mikado couldn't let Shizuo make off with his girl, either!

"Well, do you want sushi?" The tall man looked at his busty companion.

"Huh?"

"Helen and I got these coupons, but she isn't here, so I'm left with a "buy a meal, get a meal free" deal. I don't want that much sushi. You want her part of it?"

Anri blinked behind her huge frames. "Uh," At her stunned reply, Shizuo gave her a more critical look.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Whuh?"

"You keep spacing."

Anri flushed. "I- I'm sorry! I just, um, I was, uh,"

Lord. More apologies. Shizuo shifted his weight to his other leg and turned his head to the side. "Look. I'm sick of you sayin' "I'm sorry!" all the time. _I_ oughta be sorry, because I've forgotten your name again."

Hadn't she just reminded him less than three minutes ago?

"Oh," was all Anri could muster.

"Will you take the sushi as my apology? It'll keep you from tellin' me you are sorry, too, if you're too busy eating the stuff." The last part would have been an insult had it come from the lips of anyone less sincere and simple than Shizuo Heiwajima.

"Okay," the girl whispered.

Mikado was beside himself and fought to keep his moan bottled up. The Dollar texts, on the other hand, were flowing freely.

[Wow! He's so suave! Did you see that?]

[I know! He just turned the apologies against her- he combatted her charming timidness like it was nothing!]

[The man is a god, after all.]

[Not just of destruction, apparently!]

[Did he take lessons?] Mikado had to give a wry flash of teeth at that one.

[I dunno, but can I take them from him? I think I've found my new idol!]

Another Dollar had an even greater impression. [Forget the lesson- can I just take him? 3]

[Hey, we can't ruin things with Barbie just for you! XD]

[Drat! ]

Back in the street, Shizuo gave Anri a small smile and gestured for her to walk next to him on the way to Simon's place.

"I really am sorry I forgot your name."

Anri gave him another wide-eyed stare. "It's Anri Sonohara. I'm so-"she saw his shoulders slump. "It's okay. My name isn't important." From deep within, Saika stirred, but remained relatively calm. Anri had been getting a little better at suppressing her.

"It's still rude of me to forget," Shizuo muttered.

Her eyes got misty. "It's really fine. I forget a lot of things, too."

"Not as many as I do," he replied. He was thinking of the promise he'd made to Kasuka when he was still a bartender. That had been forgotten just long enough to be broken. Whoops.

Was there something else he was forgetting? Hmm. He couldn't remember.

They arrived at Russia Sushi cloaked in a comfortable silence that shielded them from the negative vibes Mikado was sending them. The owner, Ivan, sat them down in a booth with a cheeky smile before giving Shizuo a slap on the back.

"Way to go," he whispered to him.

Shizuo was denser than lead. "The hell?

Ivan just winked and went to fetch an appetizer. Ikebukuro's Strongest shrugged what he'd said off and opened the menu.

At the bar, Mikado was miserable. He watched his phone fill up with messages as he tried to eavesdrop. Alas, his targets were rather quiet and far away, so he was all alone with his thoughts and a vibrating mobile device.

As we know, Mikado's thoughts (and the words on the phone) frequently resembled a cleaner version Crank Yankers, so they weren't the best companions. He was pulled from his little production of Anri and Shizuo making out over some weird sushi plate in the shape of a heart by a familiar voice.

"Did you come to watch the Fighting Doll and Barbie, too?"

Kyohei Kadota was sitting in the booth behind the one Shizuo and Anri occupied and he had pulled back the curtain so Mikado could see his three usual companions (along with a few unfamiliar faces) peeking out behind him.

If Mikado's guilty face didn't prove him as charged, his slow nod did.

At the affirmation, Kyohei jerked his head backwards. Mikado turned his in uncertainty, to which the older guy doubled his earlier motion in intensity. The Raira boy got up and slowly made his way over to his senior, intending to keep the quiet, but Kadota ruined that by grabbing Mikado by the collar.

"Get your ass in here!" He hissed, dragging him through the curtain.

Saburo, ear to the wall, shot back with a harsh quieting noise. Mikado noticed that Walker and Erika were also glued to the thin wood separating their table from Shizuo and Anri's. The other people in the booth were unfamiliar to him.

Erika got a weird light in her eyes when she saw Mikado, but she kept her mouth shut.

"Are all you guys Dollars?" whispered Mikado to his companions in the booth.

In tandem, they all gave him a curt nod and a finger to the lips. Erika then grabbed him and pressed his ear to the wall, too.

They stayed that way until Mikado's neck began to cramp. Nobody had said anything.

"They aren't speaking," Saburo announced.

"Yeah, no shit," another Dollar with several tattoos answered.

The only other girl besides Erika stood up. We need to get some romantic lighting and flowers in there, stat!"

"No!" snapped Erika, who tightened her grip on Mikado's shoulder.

"Yeah, that would be too tacky," Saburo agreed.

Walker brightened. "Maybe we should go serenade them!"

His suggestion earned him a smack from his fujoshi counterpart. "Whose side are you on?" she growled, giving Mikado's shoulder another squeeze.

"Well, the Dollars' si-"

Kyohei, who had not separated ear from wall since bringing in Mikado, silenced them. "Shizuo is talking."

They all shut up and tuned into the wooden wall.

"So, uh, what kind of sushi do you like?"

"Huh?" Anri looked up from her lap. "I, uh, well…" She fiddled with her hands.

"I liked the strawberry cheesecake kind they had the other day, though it was a little weird."

Shizuo laughed, and Anri clenched her hands.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"Huh? Oh, no, not you. My, uh, friend and I just had a discussion about strawberry cheesecake."

"Oh. Did he like it?"

Shizuo threw his hands up. "Nope! Said she didn't like strawberries. There's gotta be something wrong with her."

Anri thought about his reply. "Your friend is a she?" Her face lit up. "Was it Miss Celty?"

"No," Shizuo said, perplexed. "But how do you know Celty?"

"She took me home when the Slasher attacked." Anri held Saika down.

"Oh! Right."

Back in the Dollars booth, Saburo was incredulous. "He doesn't remember? He wrecked my freakin' door!"

Kyohei made him be quiet. "Shizuo breaks stuff all the time. He can't keep track of all of it. Shut up." He turned his attention to the other side once more.

Anri was getting more comfortable now that Celty was mentioned. "She's really nice, isn't she?"

"Yep. Celty is one of the nicest people I know. Too bad other people don't see it that way."

"Yeah," the Raira girl agreed. "I think they're all scared."

Shizuo stared pensively at the table. "It makes me a little mad that people get so scared of things that are a little different, but at the same time…" He sighed. "I wish they weren't so cold to her, at least."

Anri smiled. "I think that everyone who really gets to know Miss Celty like her immediately. She's so perfect!"

Shizuo could have sworn that the figure on the other side of the table was Shinra. "Do all people with glasses immediately love Celty?" He blurted.

"Who else is she close to?

"Huh? Oh. Never mind." He wasn't sure if telling this girl about Celty's roommate was a good idea.

Anri looked up at him. "Do you wear glasses, Mr. Heiwajima?"

"Um," he took a moment to figure out why she was asking. "Ah. No. Well, I wear sunglasses sometimes, but I don't need 'em." He'd lost one of his pairs recently, actually. Where the hell did he leave those things? "Celty is a good friend, though."

"Where did you meet her?"

"Let's see. At the beginning of high school. I was about your age."

Anri wanted to know more. She idolized the headless rider. "How?"

"You sure are curious." Shizuo didn't mind, though. He liked Celty and he was taking a shine to this girl- at least, he was now that she wasn't apologizing. "I ran into her talking to a guy we both knew and he introduced me. Later, I'd see her on the streets, and we'd just go chat about life. I dunno, we just kind of hit it off."

Anri had a big smile on her face. "I'm jealous."

"Do what?"

"I mean, I'm jealous that you get to talk to Miss Celty like that. I really admire her."

Shizuo shrugged. "You can talk with her, too, if you want. So long as she isn't busy."

"Oh, I do online, sometimes."

"Well, then why are you jealous?"

"Because," Anri ducked her head. "You've got all of her attention, don't you? You're her boyfriend, right?"

Everyone who knew contrary in the other booth had to bite their tongues to keep from laughing or shouting in disbelief. Except Erika- she just kept on cutting off all the circulation in poor Mikado's shoulder.

Shizuo's eyes bugged out. "What?"

"Aren't you? You sure are close."

Quickly, Shizuo brought his hands up in front of him and waved away the suggestion. "No, Celty and I are just good friends."

Just then, Simon burst in with a heart-shaped tray full of goodies. "Special appetizer, just for you!" He spotted at Anri. "Oh, you no Barbie!" As he set down the tray, he leaned into Shizuo. "You are player, I see." He tut-tutted.

"What in the world are you people talking about? Has the sushi gone to your head?" It's a really good thing the God of Destruction (in a bartender's suit) was clueless. Otherwise, Russia Sushi would be reduced to Russia rubble.

"Sushi go to head? No! What kind of sushi you want, you want in mouth! To stomach! Sushi good! Eat sushi! What you like?" Simon covered as he took their order.

When he left, Shizuo examined the tray. "This is like a meal all on its own," he said, scooting it closer to Anri. Here, you have them. You said you liked the strawberry cheesecake sushi."

Sometime afterwards, as Shizuo and Anri continued to chat over their meal, the girl Dollar looked up from relaying the whole conversation through her phone. "They are really hitting it off," she said.

Erica moved her hands from Mikado's shoulder (thank God) and then clamped them over his ears. He felt like his brain was being compressed into mush.

"Don't crush Mi-chan's dreams!" she shrieked.

Kyohei ignored her and looked to the boy she held hostage between her paws. "Move your hands for a minute, Erika, I want to ask him something." Begrudgingly, she did as she was told. She'd do anything for Kyohei, after all.

He looked at Mikado. "Don't you know that girl? The one with Shizuo?"

"Yeah, I do. That's my friend, Anri Sonohara. We go to school together."

Erika was manic. "That _succubus!_ She's swooping in to take the Island from the Emperor! _She was jealous!"_ Suddenly, she turned Mikado around to face her and shook him. "_DO NOT GIVE UP! _True love always rises triumphantly from the ashes! Arise to your Dragon's Peak!"

Walker butted in. "Erika, slow down there! I think Mikado is more suited to finding his own inner resolve and wielding it all on his own. He's a very self-reliant and secretive shonen hero."

With a fury rivaling that of the man in the next booth over, Erika was on him. "That doesn't mean a pep talk doesn't help! Shonen relies upon the bonds of _friendship_- and others' belief in a person or cause! Even my yelling helps! You know that! You know the Shonen Jump slogan!"

And then Saburo grabbed the Otaku duo by their ears. "Shaddup! They're leaving!"

Once again, everyone adhered themselves to the wall.

"Shit! I forgot about that Kida kid! He needs lunch!"

Mikado started- Anri didn't know about Kida!

"Masaomi Kida?"

"Yeah," Shizuo said. "He broke his leg and he's staying with me for a while. Actually," he mulled it over in his head, "What did you say your name was, one more time?"

Anri had more patience than anyone else on the planet. "Anri Sonohara."

"Sorry. I'm awful with names. But you're his friend, aren't you?"

"Yes. Masaomi is a very close friend of mine. When did this happen?"

"Don't worry- it's not a huge secret. It happened yesterday. But he specifically asked that you and your other friend, uh, Mikido?"

"Mikado."

"Right. Thanks. You and Mikado can come visit him any time."

"Oh, thank you."

"I'm gonna buy another plate of sushi for him, but if you want you can come with me to see him." The melancholic blonde would certainly perk up if a friend came over. Besides, if he wasn't moping, Shizuo could guarantee that he was bored out of his mind right now.

Anri's shyness was almost magically non-existent. "Yes. I would like that."

They got their sushi and headed out the door. Mikado, who was desperate to separate Anri from Shizuo- or at least chaperone them on the way home- was waylaid by Kyohei.

"Do you know how Masaomi Kida got hurt yesterday?" Kyohei, the big brother figure for many Ikebukureans, intended to end the secrecy of the Yellow Scarves leader's past.

Mikado was in such a tizzy that he let the graveness of his senior's voice go unheeded. "I know all about it. I-I was there!" He gave a small bow as Kyohei tried to continue. "I'm so sorry, but I need to go!"

He shot out of Russia Sushi like a lightning bolt, leaving the van gang and company stunned. Nobody stood up Kyohei Kadota like that- this was a first!

Mikado just ignored his buzzing phone in favor of giving his friend and her destructive escort all of his attention. Once they made it inside Shizuo's apartment, however, Mikado waited an agonizing six-and-a-half minutes with them out of his sight before going in to "visit Masaomi" himself.

"Hello, there!" Mikado planted a forced smile on his face and meekly walked into the apartment.

Masaomi's cheery voice greeted him. "Well! The party's all here! Anri and Shizuo came in just a minute ago!"

"Hello, Mikado!" Anri chirped. Her lips were not on Shizuo's. She was still pure. Good.

He walked into the main room of the little apartment- it was a cramped little kitchen jammed next to a small living room space- basically, there was a couch (which Masaomi occupied), a refrigerator, a table for two of the tiniest people imaginable (which most Japanese were, with the exception of, ironically, the owner of the apartment) to sit comfortably compacted on the chairs without losing circulation, a few cabinets, an oven, a sink, and a microwave.

Shizuo wasn't starving poor, but he was definitely not rich.

"Well, Mikado, if you'd like a seat, take it. I'll leave you kids alone," the host said.

Masaomi chuckled. "You can stay if you want." His mood had done a one-eighty just from the addition of company- just like Shizuo had suspected.

"No, it's okay. I need to check my phone anyway- it's been off. See ya." The older man stepped into the only other doorway. "I hope Tom didn't try to call me."

Mikado turned white.

"Mikado, everything okay?"

He didn't answer- he was too preoccupied thinking about how Shizuo was a Dollar with a phone with texting capabilities.

And how he'd be reading the texts of today's big news- how the Dollars had both covered for and given coverage of his "date" with Helen and Anri. He'd be reading them right now.

Oh, my.

* * *

><p>For those of you who read this: Updates will be slower because of lots of factors including, but not limited to, South Park fiction.<p>

Who should Shizuo be paired with? I dunno. Really, I don't know! I kind of liked working with Anri, though. (Also: I feel like everyone in this fic is like, "Whuuuuuut? Huuuuuh?" half the time. It's both amusing and annoying. XD)

Anyway, thank you for reading and please review! Hope you enjoyed it!


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